


Wayfaring Stranger

by Khirsah



Series: Patron Gifts [2]
Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Banter, Cowboys, Expanded from YARBB story, M/M, Summer Romance, Teddy makes a hot cowboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 01:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 82,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1532120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Whoa, <i>whoa</i>,” a low voice cried. The horse snorted, and Billy heard the soft thud of hooves hitting the earth alarmingly close to where he was standing. It was <i>so</i> close, he could feel the muffled reverberations in the packed earth. Then, “<i>Oh my God</i>, are you okay?”</p><p><i>No</i>, he wanted to shout. He was trembling all over, knees actually shaking. Billy slowly dropped his arm and dared to blink open his eyes. He looked up—and up—and up—until he met those blue eyes, just as open and bright as the whole damned Big Sky country in a face that was, oh God yes, really <i>incredibly</i> handsome. The sharp words dried on his tongue; the fear drained away. He could actually <i>feel</i> his brain derail. Holy crap, that was one hot cowboy. “Um,” Billy said stupidly. “I. Yeah. I think…yeah. Hi.”</p><p>“I am <i>so</i> sorry,” Hot Cowboy said. “I am so, so unbelievably sorry.”</p><p>“No, hey, it’s fine,” Billy quickly assured him. “No harm done. Um. Nice horse.”</p><p><i>Nice horse</i>? He fought the urge to cover his face with his hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wayfaring Stranger (YARBB mini-version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017819) by [Khirsah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khirsah/pseuds/Khirsah). 



> This story was originally written as a pinch hit for the YARBB, inspired by [Carliscrazy's adorable picture](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1017819). Cowboy!Teddy just wouldn't leave me alone, and now I promise 100% more hayloft makeouts.
> 
> Cris has also been a huge inspiration. She started drawing pictures for this universe, and her drawings are the road map I'm using as I write. You should absolutely [go tell her how awesome she is](http://cris-art.tumblr.com/).

“I am a poor, wayfaring stranger traveling through this world alone,  
And there's no sickness, toil or danger in that bright land to which I go.  
I'm goin' there to see my mother—  
She said she'd meet me when I come.  
So, I'm just goin' over Jordan.  
I'm just goin' to find my home.”  
— **Wayfaring Stranger** , American folk song

“Hyah!” Teddy called, leaning over the dusty saddlehorn. The tempo of Inigo’s canter changed, smoothing out into a long-legged gallop as they passed the tourist trails that dotted the foothills and headed down into the wide basin of the valley. The winding path spread out before him, scattered with wildflowers as it bottomed out into rolling grassland. The shadow of the mountain fell across his shoulders like a cloak—he could feel the moment they broke free of it, sunlight beating against worn plaid.

And with a subtle fanfare that never ceased to amaze Teddy, Montana’s big sky opened wide and blue and impossibly huge above him.

 _Just look at this place, Mom_ , Teddy thought, tipping his face up to the endless blue. Beneath him, Inigo moved with a steady, trusting grace, hooves pounding against hard-packed soil. _Can you even believe it’s real?_

Shadows streamed across the colorful grasslands, cast by the huge white clouds twisting in a steady breeze. Teddy and Inigo were one of those shadows; it felt, Teddy thought, like they were racing the wind itself. Inigo’s black mane lifted in the air, twisting into elegant shapes as they thundered through the valley. Teddy curled his fingers in it, resting his weight on the balls of his feet and leaning so close he could hear the draw of Inigo’s breath, could smell the sweat rising on his withers.

He had an hour before he had to be back to the stables. He had an hour to pay his respects.

“Hyah!” he called, crouching lower as Inigo picked up speed. “Hyah! Hyah!” He would make it or be damned for trying.

Teddy fell easily into the rhythm of Inigo’s gallop, muscles relaxed as they passed through the valley. Birds rose at their approach, startling from the brush with warning trills. A grazing deer lifted its head, then bolted away. Teddy pressed his right knee into Inigo’s flank and felt the way his horse responded to his command, veering left. They passed through the shallow trickle of the mountain’s mighty stream, water rising in a sudden rainbow cascade. It pattered harmlessly against worn boots and the tooled leather of Inigo’s saddle.

A few miles away, nestled safely in the foothills at the base of a single improbable mountain miles away from the main range’s purple-blue ridge, the Lonely Mountain ranch housed dozens of staff and scores of guests. The hands put the horses and cattle through their paces for kids and their indulgent parents. Herding dogs panted in the hot sun; the crack of gunfire and clay pigeons shattering punctuated the hum of ranch life. A dinner bell would be ringing soon, he knew, calling the guests in to the huge, pseudo-rustic lodge, and while they ate, the hands would hurry to stable and feed the mounts tired from a long day of picking their way through winding trails. He could practically feel the angry hornet’s nest buzz of activity at his back; he could feel the creeping awareness of work that needed to be done.

But in the distance, straight as the crow flies, Teddy could see the pile of grey rock that marked his mother’s grave—and for the moment, nothing else mattered.

He pressed his knee against Inigo’s flank, but Inigo was already turning toward the familiar landmark. It rose up against the sky, perched on the crest of a rolling hill. Wild ghost juniper clung to the cracks and crags of the cairn, berries an unexpected burst of blue.

Teddy waited until he could make out the sharp leaves before he wound his fingers through the black mane, his other hand dropping to touch his horses’s neck as he murmured, “Whoa, whoa.” Inigo settled into a canter, then a trot, then a steady walk before coming to a stop a few feet away from where Teddy’s mother had been buried.

“Good boy,” Teddy murmured, rubbing his hand across the dark neck. “Good, good boy.” He untangled his fingers, gripping the saddlehorn as he swung a leg free, and dropped easily to the ground. The juniper bush spilled over the lip of the cairn and covered the grass in a low fog. Its branches crunched under his bootheels as Teddy stepped back, then paused to tug off his hat and toss it onto the horn.

He dragged his fingers through the longish ends of his blond hair, shaking out the drops of sweat beading his brow. No longer pulled by the wind, his plaid shirt clung to his shoulders and the dip of his spine; Christ, but it was a hot one.

Teddy squinted up at the sun, then moved across the blanket of juniper. He reached out to rest a broad, calloused palm against sun-warmed rock.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. His voice sounded small to his own ears; he cleared his throat and tried for a smile, thumb brushing over the pits and crags in an absent caress. There was no headstone here. No bits of wood lashed together to form a cross. His mother hadn’t been that sort of woman—she’d been the kind so full of wanderlust that they’d spent his short life traveling from state to state, crossing the wide belly of America as if their family of two was little more than tumbleweed.

This was the first time in all his life she’d ever settled anywhere.

“I just wanted to come tell you I was thinking of you today,” Teddy murmured, moving into an easy crouch. He leaned against the pile of rock the way he used to curl against her side when he was young. He tipped his head to rest against what he sometimes liked to imagine was a soft, welcoming shoulder. There was no arm to curl around his middle and pull him close, but that was okay—he’d had time to get used to the sting. “It was a good day. We’re expecting some more visitors later; they’ll be in just past dinner, probably. A family from back east. New York, I think. Isn’t that funny? I wonder if they’ve ever been to where we used to live.”

He didn’t remember the little Brooklyn apartment—he’d been too young back then to have more than vague impressions of color and sound—but his mother used to tell him about it. It had been their first home, before the travel bug had caught her. It had been, strangely enough, the only time they’d ever ventured to the coast.

Teddy closed his eyes as a low breeze ruffled his hair, dragging the too-long ends against his brow. A few steps away, Inigo whinnied and stomped his foot. Clouds raced overhead; he could feel their shadows kissing his skin.

All of Montana spread out before him and his mother, gold and green and heart-breakingly beautiful.

He stayed there for as long as he could, watching the grass bob in the breeze, breathing in the scent of crushed juniper and cedar. Finally, aware of time slipping quickly away, Teddy sighed and stood. He dusted himself off and whistled to Inigo; his horse, drifted several yards away in search of better grazeland, lifted his head and whickered.

“I’ve gotta get back before the dinner rush,” Teddy said. He reached down to touch the crest of the rock again, smiling against the wistful burn in his chest. It _had_ been a good day. He needed to remember that. “I’ll come back to visit for longer soon. Once the new folks are settled, I’ll bring you stories of the city, okay?”

He stepped away and began to turn, then, suddenly remembering, swung back with a sheepish grin. “Oh yeah,” he said, digging into his pocket. Teddy pulled out a bit of carved wood, about the length of his thumb and shaped to look like an otter. It was more of an impression than a true likeness—he was getting better, but he was still learning—its tail lopsided and its little paws clutched to a too-bulky chest. “Here. I made this for you.” Teddy crouched and peeled back the ghost juniper, digging into the earth with his thumb before laying the otter into the shallow divot and covering it again. There were trinkets scattered all around the cairn—carved wood and shaped stone and colorful beads hidden in the earth. All the little bits of nonsense his mother had loved when she’d been alive. “Maybe someday it’ll actually look like something. Anyway, there you go.”

He stood again, dusting his hands off against his jeans. His mouth pulled into an unhappy smile. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

**

“It’ll be fun,” his mother repeated from the safety of the rental’s front seat. She had six brochures open on her lap, each of them variations on the same theme—wilderness, wilderness, and oh hey, yet more wilderness. “They have daily rides, fishing, marksmenship—”

“Which is off limits,” Billy’s father added before David and Andy could look up from their Nintendo DSes.

“Which is off limits,” his mother echoed easily, “of course. White water rafting, hiking, nature trails, trapping. Which, hm, doesn’t exactly sound palatable either; I should check with the owner to see what their stance is on catch-and-release.”

Billy had to fight not to roll his eyes. He’d been trapped in the car with his parents and younger brothers for going on thirty-two hours now, stretched out over four days. That was thirty-two hours of squabbling over who was on whose side of the long bench seat, who had first dibs on the various electronics, who was a complete butthole and why… Family vacation was seriously going to be the death of him. “It’s a working _dude ranch_ , Mom. I’m pretty sure their stance is _if we can catch it, we should serve it with beans_.”

“Or make it into a hat,” David piped up.

“I want to catch a raccoon and make it into a hat!” Andy added.

“Maybe a raccoon with catch you and make _you_ into a hat.”

“Maybe your _butt_ is a hat!”

Billy groaned and tried to shrink down into his corner just as far as the seatbelt would allow. He drew up his legs and yanked his red hood over his head, until only a slit remained for him to peer out through. When his father had first suggested they take a trip to Montana in an attempt to rediscover nature somewhere far away from apartment window boxes and rooftop herb gardens, he’d been thrilled; now, he was beginning to see the trap: a family vacation meant _spending time with his family_.

“They have badminton. You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever played badminton before.”

This was going to be hell. Pure hell. He really needed to start re-evaluating his life decisions. He could be back in New York right now, hanging around Cosmic Comics or bickering with his friends over whether Batman or Superman would win in a fight. (Batman, duh. Everyone knew that.) Point was, he could be doing something other than desperately trying to ignore his brothers as they squirmed in their seats and hogged all the best games. Jerks.

“I have to pee,” Andy suddenly said, setting aside his DS. No one paid him any attention. “Mooom, I have to pee.” Nothing. His little brother squirmed against his seatbelt, sneakered feet kicking out. One knocked against Billy’s thigh, and Billy glared out the window, doing his best to ignore him.

Until it happened again.

And again.

And _again_.

“Oh my God, stop it!” he snapped, rounding on his little brother and punching his shoulder.

“Ow!” Andy snarled, punching back even harder. David leaned over Andy and punched Billy too. His younger brothers fought like rabid wolverines, but the _second_ one of them was threatened, they formed a unified front.

“Hey, stop it,” Billy protested when David hit him again. Andy kicked his thigh—hard!—for good measure, and Billy did his best to curl up against the door and make a smaller target. “Hey. _Hey_!”

“Andy, David,” Mother said, not looking up from the pamphlet. “Stop harassing your brother.”

Andy made an offended noise. “But he hit me first!” he protested. Then, remembering, “And I’ve got to _pee_!”

“He’s got to pee real bad,” David confirmed. “Like, super-emergency bad.”

“Super-emergency!”

Billy yanked his hood back into place. “Then you shouldn’t have had that Big Gulp,” he muttered.

“Then you shouldn’t have had a face!” Andy countered before leaning against the tightening band of his seatbelt to whine, “Daaaaad, I have to gooooo.”

David curled his fingers around their mother’s headrest. “Super-bad!” he chimed in. When that didn’t work, he turned to Andy, eyes going wide. “Heeeeey, you still have that Big Gulp cup, right?”

“Huh? Yeah, why? I— Oh!” Andy lit up, then wriggled around searching the floor for the abandoned cup. “Yeah! It’s there!”

Billy tried to kick it away, knee driving into the back of Father’s chair.

“Billy!” Father protested; the car swerved gently across the middle lane and back. “Watch your knees, please.”

“Yeah, _Billy_ ,” David sing-songed as Andy strained to grab the cup. “Watch your knees, please.”

Mother still didn’t look up. “Let’s not kick the driver; no one wants to be a statistic.”

“Oh for— Does anyone care that Andy is now hell-bent on peeing into a plastic cup?” Billy cried, exasperated. He wished this was not how family vacations _usually_ went. He wished he could say this was some kind of aberration.

“Remember to aim,” Father said distractedly, but Mother whirled around with a fierce expression that had all three of them freezing in place. “You _will not_ urinate in the rental car, young man,” she snapped…then paused. Sighed. Dropped her head and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Jeff,” Mother said, laughter and annoyed acceptance coloring her words, “pull over. The boys are going into the woods.”

“But we are almost there,” Father protested.

“But I have a Big Gulp,” Andy protested.

“I hope you get eaten by bears,” Billy muttered.

David just grinned. “Your butt is a bear,” he said happily as Mother turned her glare on Father and Father—wisely, Billy supposed—slowed the car and drove off onto the side of the road. He even turned on the hazards as they stopped, though Billy couldn’t for the life of him figure out _why_. They were already on a back country road heading up through the foothills toward a single mountain standing sentinel over the valley. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

Still, the hazards blinked. Father cut the engine. “Out,” he said.

His brothers tumbled out of the car happily. Billy sighed and wrest open his seatbelt, stumbling out onto the lush grass after them. Wildflowers grew in brilliant, blanketing folds across the rolling hills. Cedar and pine trees stood in silent witness as Andy and David went pinwheeling off into the underbrush, Mother calling for them to watch for snakes.

The sky overhead was a brilliant blue, like something out of a cartoon. A few perfect, fluffy clouds rolled past, and the sun itself seemed tiny as it stretched toward the west.

They called it Big Sky country. Billy guessed he could see why. He shoved his hands into his pockets and walked a little ways down the road, away from his family. The road curved here, riding the crest of a tree-blanketed hill that dropped off into murky forest, but if Billy stood on the edge and craned his neck, he could just make out what he guessed was the beginning of the ranch through a gap in the trees. There was a huge field just visible in the far distance, bracketed by a rustic-looking fence. If he squinted, the blurry movement he saw took the shape of…horses? Yeah, he was pretty sure those were horses.

They grazed lazily. A few loped across the field toward one of the gates where a tiny bright red spot moved. Feeding time? He moved closer, trying to make out the indistinct figures. It was strange; he was so far away, and yet it almost felt as if he was right there amongst the horses. As if they were moving around him, hooves tearing up the grassy field, manes flying.

 _Wow_ , he thought, _the valley really make things echo like crazy._ Even though the horses were far away, he swore he could hear the steady drum of their hooves. The echo grew louder and louder the longer he watched, thudding like his suddenly racing heartbeat, as if… As if they were coming nearer and…

A branch cracked just a few feet away, loud as a gunshot.

Billy turned, startled, just as a huge black horse broke through the nearby pines and came thundering toward him. He stumbled back with a cry, only catching an impression of a dark mane, sudden rearing, flailing hooves, and its rider’s startled blue eyes in an impossibly _gorgeous_ face.

Billy flung up an arm to protect his head, gasping—and God, didn’t it just figure that family vacation really _would_ kill him this time?

“Whoa, _whoa_ ,” a low voice cried. The horse snorted, and Billy heard the soft thud of hooves hitting the earth alarmingly close to where he was standing. It was _so_ close, he could feel the muffled reverberations in the packed earth. Then, “ _Oh my God_ , are you okay?”

 _No_ , he wanted to shout. He was trembling all over, knees actually shaking. Billy slowly dropped his arm and dared to blink open his eyes. He looked up—and up—and up—until he met those blue eyes, just as open and bright as the whole damned Big Sky country in a face that was, oh God yes, really _incredibly_ handsome. The sharp words dried on his tongue; the fear drained away. He could actually _feel_ his brain derail. Holy crap, that was one hot cowboy. “Um,” Billy said stupidly. “I. Yeah. I think…yeah. Hi.”

“I am _so_ sorry,” Hot Cowboy said. “I am so, so unbelievably sorry.”

“No, hey, it’s fine,” Billy quickly assured him. “No harm done. Um. Nice horse.”

 _Nice horse_? He fought the urge to cover his face with his hands.

“What? Oh. Thanks?” Hot Cowboy rested a broad palm on the side of his horse’s neck. The movement made him lean in, leather of his saddle—of his fucking cowboy boots, and holy crap, Billy was 100% done—creaking softly. The wide-brimmed hat shadowed his features, but that only served to make him look _more_ perfect. “But seriously, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have come racing up the blind like that. I’m just running late and taking a short-cut and it was _really stupid_.”

Billy shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to hide their spasmodic clenching. “Oh, hey, no, it’s fine, I’m fine, it’s all—” _stop spazzing out, weirdo_ “—uh, anyway. You’re late? So, um, should you…go now?”

Which was the last thing he wanted to say; on a scale of all the things Billy wanted, Hot Cowboy _riding off into the sunset_ was literally just behind his brothers saying something excruciatingly embarrassing and ruining his life forever.

Which, of course, was their cue.

“Hey, check it out!” Andy called. “If I aim my peen just right, I can hit that knot with my whizz!”

Billy went very still. Hot Cowboy’s eyebrows climbed. The black horse whickered, as if laughing.

 _I’m glad someone finds my sucktastic life funny_ , Billy thought. “Please ignore him,” he said. “I’m pretty sure gamma radiation scrambled his head when he was a baby; very sad.”

The other boy slowly began to grin, dimples—dimples!—flashing at the corners of his mouth. “Lemme guess,” he said, “I wouldn’t like him when he’s angry? But hey, so, I really do have to go. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Hot Cowboy made Hulk jokes. Hot Cowboy was _perfect_.

Hot Cowboy was also frowning down at him with real concern now.

“What? Oh. Oh! Yeah, no, I’m fine,” Billy rushed to assure him. He dragged a hand free and gestured to himself—all skinny, awkward limbs and messy dark hair and baggy, oversized clothes. “See? Picture of health.”

“Okay, if you’re sure. Well, it was nice meeting you.” Hot Cowboy seemed reluctant, even as he tangled his fingers in his horse’s mane to go, but Billy refused to let himself think it was because he wanted to stick around and talk to him any longer. He was already teetering on the edge of a massive instant crush and he didn’t even—

“Oh, hey, I didn’t get your,” Billy began, but Hot Cowboy had already called, “ _Hyah_!” and was swiftly moving away. His horse’s dark mane and tail flew behind him like a banner, like…like skywriting, drifting in coils as the wind snapped, and all Billy could do was watch him go, heart pounding in his throat, stomach twisting in secret pleasure because wow, _wow_. That was…

That was one _hot cowboy_.

**

He thundered down the road, hooves flinging up clouds of red dust, but the moment the Lonely Mountain crossbars came into view, Teddy had to slow Inigo to a sedate trot. No matter how late he risked running, he couldn’t just go tearing into the main yard. There were _kids_ wandering around.

And, God, he’d already almost run down someone in his idiocy today.

Teddy flushed, trying not to think about the kid’s angular face, his messy snarl of dark hair, his eyes locked eagerly on him. He could have sworn there had been a frisson of… _something_ …there between them in that too-short interaction. _He’d_ certainly felt a stirring of reluctant awareness. The kid had been wearing a red hoodie and baggy jeans, both of which seemed set to swallow him whole. There were teeth marks in the hoodie’s pulls, and a handful of freckles across his nose.

There had also been a shiny, big, expensive-looking SUV parked some distance back, hazards flashing, which was the only cue Teddy needed to know Red Hoodie was way out of his league.

Still. _Still_. He wished he’d gotten the boy’s name.

But right now, he had more important things to worry about.

He pressed his knee into Inigo’s left flank, leading him through the small gate toward the main stable. He could just make out an anxious figure filling the doorway, hands on her hips and stone-washed jeans somehow spotless despite a full day’s work. Teddy whistled and Inigo picked up speed, chewing up the last few hundred yards until they were pulling up to the stable and Kelly’s usually smiling face was peering up at him with a worried frown.

“Teddy,” she began.

“I know,” he said, swinging a leg over and dropping lightly to the ground. “How bad is it?”

She checked her Mickey Mouse watch, stepping aside as he led Inigo into the cool dim of the stable. “Just eight minutes. If you hurry, you should be fine.”

Teddy nodded thanks and led his horse down the aisle to his stall. The stable was a long, high-pitched building with a T-crossing three-quarters of the way in. A center walkway was lined on either side with roomy stalls; above, two haylofts ran just above the stalls, connected by catwalks every few feet. Dim lights swung from rustic wagon wheel chandeliers—the same chandeliers that decorated the main lodge. It was a working stable, but here at Lonely Mountain, everything was dressed up just a little for show.

“Come on, boy,” Teddy murmured, hand on Inigo’s neck. Other horses slung their heads over the low stall doors to whicker at them as they passed. “Go on, you gossips,” he said with a laugh. “Whinny all you want, but I’m not telling you where I was.” He threw the bolt and slung open the door to Inigo’s stall.

And froze, meeting a pair of dark eyes.

Gael was leaning against the far back corner of the stall, just out of sight. _Deliberately_ out of sight, a part of Teddy whispered. Waiting for just this opportunity. Teddy swallowed as Gael straightened, crossed arms falling to his sides, black brow arched in question. “Are you going to tell _me_ where you were?” he murmured. “Or are you going to make me _guess_?”

_Fuck._

“I’m sorry,” Teddy said immediately, stepping into the stall. Inigo followed, moving between the two boys and nosing for his feeding trough. “I lost track of time.”

“Out for a pleasure ride, I see. I hope you enjoyed it.” Gael moved to rest a palm against Inigo’s flank, and Teddy felt a ridiculous surge of possessiveness he had to quickly tap down. He couldn’t let himself rise to Gael’s bait. “Unfortunately, my dad doesn’t pay you to go haring off God knows where whenever you want and shirk your duties.”

 _You know exactly where I was_ , Teddy wanted to snap, but he bit the inside of his mouth. It would only be worse if he let himself lose his temper; he knew that. By now, he knew that deep down to his blood and bones. “I’m eight minutes late,” Teddy said, fighting to keep his voice even. “I’ll make it up tomorrow.”

“Twenty,” Gael countered. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. What kind of an example would that be to everyone else?”

He wouldn’t beg. He knew he should—knew that’s what Gael wanted—but Teddy couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not with this kid. Not on this day. Not after everything they’d been through together.

Gael studied his face silently, brows drawn together. His full lips pulled into a frown. “Well?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

 _That_ earned a scowl. “Here’s a hint, Altman: _not that_.” He pulled away, moving toward the stall door. “Go ahead and brush him down, then take him out to the main field for free running. There’s new arrivals set to come tonight, and Father wanted the yard looking lively.”

“The Kaplans,” Teddy agreed. “I’ve been assigned to them.”

Gael paused, then glanced over his shoulder. “Not anymore. You’re off the White family, too.”

He straightened, unable to hide an angry flush. “ _What_?” Inigo whickered and tossed his mane, responding to the near-shout; Teddy reached out immediately to run a hand down the horse’s neck in soothing gesture. “You’re taking me off two gigs because of _eight minutes_?”

“Twenty minutes. If you don’t like it, take it up with my father.” Gael pulled the stall door closed behind him, triumphant smirk clear on his face—they both knew Teddy would never do that. “Enjoy your downtime, Altman: you had it coming.”

And then he strolled away, hands shoved into his jean pockets, _whistling_ just to get under Teddy’s skin. Alone in the stall with Inigo, Teddy fumed…and quietly despaired. Gael had been just looking for an excuse to yank him off as many gigs as he could, and Teddy had given him a perfect opportunity, practically gift-wrapped and topped with a bow. Jesus fuck.

He should have known this would happen.

“Well?”

Teddy looked up, meeting Kelly’s eyes. She was leaning against the stall door from the outside aisle, arms crossed over the low wood. “I’ve been pulled off two gigs,” he admitted dully. “The Whites and the Kaplans.”

“That son of a biscuit. All because of eight minutes?”

He sighed and began to tug at the straps securing Inigo’s saddle. “Twenty, he said. He’s making an example of me.”

“Oh, twenty my eye! Unless he’s got his watch set to some sort of jerkwad time zone, you were eight minutes late _at most_. Two gigs; oh gosh, that’s so _unfair_.”

Teddy grunted in agreement, focusing in on the worn leather, the soft plaid of the saddle blanket. He got a wage no matter what, but the big money—the money he _needed_ if he ever wanted to see his way into college and make something worthwhile out of himself—came from the generous tips left by wealthy guests. He’d been teaching the White girls how to ride; their mother had been so pleased with their progress (and the way they were out of her hair for hours at a time) that Teddy had felt sure he was in for a more than decent tip. A few more of those over the summer and maybe he could even afford to start community college in the fall.

It was _something_ , at least. And now, with two paychecks pulled out from under him, it was looking more and more unlikely.

Kelly sighed. “I’ve got to get up to the big house to welcome the Kaplans,” she said. “But look. I’m not going to let Gael assign anyone new to assist me. As far as I see it, you’re my Number Two, Teds. I’ll find a way to get you back on the gig.”

He looked up. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for me,” he began, but she just waved him off with her trademark huge grin.

“Naw, I’m not afraid of Gael. He doesn’t know where any of my bodies are buried. Which, _shit_ , that was a real insensitive thing to say today; I am _so_ sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Teddy said quickly, lifting the saddle off Inigo’s back. “Thanks. I mean it. I…really appreciate it.”

She smiled again, softer this time, and pushed away from the stall door. “You’re a good kid, Teds,” she said, “with one hell of a tough row to hoe. Take it easy tonight and I’ll get you back in the saddle tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small, twisting smile. “Later.”

He watched her go, working to keep the smile in place, but the moment he heard Kelly take the left T-crossing and leave the stable, his shoulders slumped forward. Teddy slung the saddle to rest over the stall door and pressed his forehead against warm, familiar leather. The tears he’d managed to hold back all through the day were threatening now, burning against his lashes as he drew in slow, unsteady breaths.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_.

Life wasn’t fair.

He blew out a breath, then pulled back; Teddy wiped roughly at his eyes with the heel of his palm and forced himself to turn back to Inigo with squared shoulders and a lifted chin. It would all work out. Wasn’t that what his mother always said? No matter how grey the horizon looked, there was always a bend coming down the road.

He just had to keep looking ahead.

**

They pulled up at the Lonely Mountain Ranch half an hour later, bitterly arguing over whether _does a bear whizz in the woods_ was 1) completely nonsensical and 2) appropriate to say in front of mixed company. (Mixed, in his mother’s mind, being anyone _not_ Andy-and-David.) The second the car pulled to a stop in front of the main lodge, Billy flung open his door and went tumbling out. He only just kept himself from slamming the door behind him, fingers corded in the pulls of his hoodie to keep from throttling obnoxious younger brothers—Hot Cowboy was practically a fever dream now.

“Oh, this is lovely,” his mother said, climbing out of the car. Her voice was filled with real pleasure.

Even annoyed as he was, Billy had to admit she was right. The ranch was perfectly framed by the mountain it nestled against; the architecture of the main lodge effortlessly echoed its high peak with a central vaulted roof, exposed wood beams forming simple buttresses. The whole pitched wall was faceted glass—not like stained glass, but more like shards of a broken mirror fit together haphazardly and welded with thick strips of lead. They caught the fading light and reflected them back with coy, winking glimmers.

The lodge itself was massive, left and right flankers made of warm-colored wood. There were honest-to-god hitching posts just outside its main doors, and the gravel road stretched to a huge wooden crossbars with what Billy guessed was the Lonely Mountain sigil. It was like something out of a Wild West movie.

Stretching down the slope of the foothills and further into the valley were groupings of buildings and that wide field Billy had noticed before, filled with wildflowers and horses. Across the vast stretch of the valley, toward the east, the distant ring of mountains gathered together like gossips in the dusk.

It wasn’t a bad place to spend the next few weeks.

The main door swung open and Billy turned, curious. A pretty, dark-haired girl was headed their way, wide grin already breaking across her face. Billy caught an impression of very straight white teeth against dark skin, a cowboy hat tipped back to reveal a curved barbell in her right brow, and a massive ring of keys hooked to her belt, which made her jingle with each step. And then she was bounding up to greet them.

“Howdy!” the girl said. She reached out to grab his father’s hand and shook it enthusiastically, grin never once faltering. “You must be Mr. Kaplan. We’ve got your cabin all set up and waiting for you; why don’t we get you and your—oh gosh!—cute-as-a-button family settled in so you can finish watching the sunset on your new porch? It’s just _fantastic_ today, isn’t it? I’m so glad you made it in time. Can I help you with anything? Aw, hey, these must be your sons!”

His dad cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as if searching for backup. Billy couldn’t blame him; the girl’s enthusiasm was like a falling hammer. “Ah, yes—that’s Andy, and David, and Billy. This is my wife, Rebecca—”

“Howdy, Rebecca! Howdy, guys!” She waved, keys jingling madly when she moved.

“Don’t we need to check in first, ah…?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, ma’am—Kelly! It’s sure a pleasure to meet you,” Kelly added, taking his mother’s hand and shaking it just as broadly. It was like meeting a cartoon character come to life, Billy thought, biting back a grin. Kelly was so bubbling with energy and excitement and…and _boundless local color_ that it almost felt like the punchline to an elaborate joke. “And naw, you don’t have to check in yet—let’s get you guys settled first. We can worry about signing the lines and dotting the t’s after we’ve appreciated just how gorgeous the Montana sky gets at dusk; how does that sound? Is this your luggage?”

She was moving as she spoke, already pulling open the trunk of the rental and hauling out rollerboards.

“Oh, yes, but you don’t have to do that,” his mother began, moving to help.

“It’s no problem!” Kelly assured her. “If we get all hands on deck, we’ll have you set up in no time. Here you go, squirtle,” she added, passing a bag to Andy. “You think your muscles are big enough to handle that?”

Andy scoffed. “My muscles are bigger than Randy Orton’s,” he said, puffing up and lifting his arms to show her. “See? I’m going to be a wrestler someday, and I’m going to kick John Cena’s butt at Wrestlemania, and it’s going to be _awesome_.”

“That _sounds_ awesome, oh gosh; you’ve gotta tell me all about that.”

Billy slipped in to grab his own bags, grunting at the weight. He hadn’t known what to pack, so in true Kaplan fashion, he’d packed everything. He was pretty sure he was going to bitterly regret that for the next ten minutes or so. Soon, they were all loaded down and struggling away from the main lodge, following a winding dirt path toward one of the distant buildings.

 _Distant,_ Billy thought, dragging the reluctant rollerboard behind him, _being the operative word_.

Kelly kept up a running commentary as they dragged themselves across the sloping field toward the cabin. The sun was sinking lower and lower as they walked, making their shadows into spindly giants that bobbed and swayed across the rolling grassland.

“And this would be your cabin,” Kelly said as she sprinted up the steps to the wide front porch. Billy blew a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. His limbs felt as if they had been folded up into complicated origami shapes. Even his mother’s enthusiasm was pale in comparison with the girl’s broad, beaming smile and relentless good cheer. “We’ve got you staying in the Bighorn Suite—and let me tell you, you’re in for a real treat! You can already see the wide open porch looking out toward the distant mountains— Oh, here, let me help you with that, kiddo.”

She leaned over and plucked the suitcase from Andy’s struggling grip, and there wasn’t a moment’s sign of effort on her face as she slung it up onto the porch as if it weighed nothing at all. It was incredible; there was no way she was for real.

“Now what was I saying? Oh, right, so—there are only three rockers, but heck, we can drag a few more down if you like. Just ring up to the big house and we’ll get someone to take care of that for you. The inside’s all pine, with a real working fireplace, a kitchenette, three bedrooms—”

“DIBS!” Andy and David cried as one, scuffling at the doorway before pushing past and into the cabin.

“—and two baths, _including_ a clawfoot to die for,” the girl continued as if she’d never been interrupted.

Billy gripped the handle of his suitcase and hoisted it up the stairs as his mother paused on the porch. “That sounds lovely, Kelly, thank you.” Then, “My goodness, Jeff, would you look at this view.”

It _was_ pretty nice, Billy had to admit. Probably not 30-something hours of driving nice, but still. The mountains were a pale grayed lavender, ghosting white at their tips as they thrust up into the clouds. The sky was huge and open, so blue it was almost unreal. He felt a little like Dorothy in that moment where the world bled from black-and-white into full Technicolor: he was still blinking hard and barely believing his eyes.

The ranch was huge and gorgeous in its own way, too. It sprawled across green and gold land, rustic fences cording off various pastures. Their cabin was a good distance away from the others, near one of the U-shaped stables. Some of the horses were out in the field directly abutting the stable, Billy noted. He left his bag by his parents and wandered to the far end of the porch to get a better view.

In the nearest field, a surprisingly familiar black horse (mare? stallion? He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference even if he lifted up some skirts to check) shook its mane and began to rear up with an annoyed whinny. Billy watched as a boy in a cowboy hat and dark jeans—back to him—reached up to touch the tight muscles of the horse’s neck, the other lifted in a soothing gesture.

It was too far away for him to hear anything, but even at this distance, Billy could _see_ the effect the boy was having. The horse dropped back to earth, tossing its mane again. It pawed the ground once. It went still.

It turned its head and bumped its muzzle into the boy’s stomach, sending him back a laughing step.

_Hot Cowboy._

“Oh, hey,” Kelly said from just behind Billy. He startled and looked over his shoulder guiltily. “Are you into horses?”

 _I’m into cute cowboys_ , he thought, but he just smiled. “Sure,” Billy said, “yeah. Who’s that?”

The boy had half-turned, sunlight catching on the earrings Billy had been too rattled to notice before. He was probably around Billy’s age, battered wide-brimmed hat shielding much of his face, but Billy could see the ends of golden hair at the nape of his neck and impossibly broad shoulders that narrowed down into a trim waist. His worn jeans hugged him like a second skin; a green kerchief hung out of his back-left pocket, smudged with dirt and bits of hay. It drew Billy’s eyes unerringly to the perfect curve of the other boy’s ass.

He flushed and looked down at his feet.

“Who? Inigo? Oh! Oh, no, you mean Teddy. He’s one of our guides—you’ll be meeting him when we tour the stables. He’s going to help me match you guys up with your horses.”

“Oh,” Billy said, and a hot curl of anticipation slowly began to uncoil deep in his stomach. “That’s— That’s cool.”

She lightly bumped their shoulders. “Yeah, I know you guys’ll love him; Teddy’s practically a horse whisperer, I swear to gosh. I’ve never seen animals more taken with anyone before. Oh hey, Mrs. Kaplan, look at how purple the sky gets this time of night. Isn’t it wild? Montana’s the prettiest place you’ll ever be, and…”

Kelly continued, bubbly voice fading into the background as Billy watched the other boy across the green fields, the last of the dying sunlight making him gleam golden and perfect and otherworldly. Hot Cowboy was like something out of a movie; he was like something out of a dream.

 _No_ , Billy told himself, wetting his lips. His skin felt itchy and too small stretched over his frame, electricity sizzling down his spine. He’d never felt so aware of another person before. _Teddy_. The cowboy’s name was _Teddy._

**

At Lonely Mountain, the hands ate well after the guests had cleared out of the main hall, which meant dinner could be served anywhere from 9 to 11 at night. It was tough for anyone who had to hit the trails early—which, when it boiled down to it, was most of them—but by now it had become so routine that none of them thought to complain anymore. It was just another part of life here. It was the way things had to be.

Ever since Gael’s mother had died, Teddy mused darkly, there were a lot of _the way things had to be._

The atmosphere in the mess was subdued; even Kelly was too tired to do more than push around her potatoes and listen to Len spin some yarn about his days back in the Marines. The old cowboy was weathered to the point of patina, face a map of leathery creases and teeth brown as old river rocks. He wasn’t allowed to chew tobacco anywhere near the house, but he was so in the habit that his jaws had to be working on _something_ , so he’d taken up carrying pouches of Big League chewing gum. As a result, he smelled like horseflesh, sweat, and imitation watermelon.

“See, the thing is,” he said, pushing away his empty plate and patting down his shirt pockets for some gum, “there’s a certain kind of quiet the air gets when something’s fixin’ to die. It don’t matter if it’s a man or a horse or some kind of critter—the whole world just goes _still_ , like it’s holding its breath.”

“Bullshit,” Carey snorted, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Languaaaaaaaaaaaage,” Kelly chirped playfully, swatting at her friend. Carey just grinned and flashed both middle fingers. “Oh hey, _rude_.”

“I’ll show you rude, princess. Why don’t I drag you back to the longhouse by your braids and—”

Trev leaned over and clapped huge, calloused hands over Teddy’s ears. “Ain’t you two got the manners of a tick?” he demanded. “There’s young minds here not fit to listen to your filth.” Teddy tried to squirm away, but Trev just clamped on tight, big fingers practically spanning his whole head; he was grinning, bristling red beard fanning about his chapped lips like a sunburst. “Come on, lookit him—he’s practically having fits, the poor kid.”

“That poor kid is three seconds away from belting you in the crotch, old man,” Carey pointed out. 

“No way!” Kelly protested, leaning over the table. She met Teddy’s eyes, brows waggling playfully. “Teddy knows there’s nothing in that crotch but wishful thinking and sawdust; he’ll pop you one in the mouth instead.”

Teddy grabbed the older man’s wrists, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance as he pried himself free. He was the youngest hand at Lonely Mountain by at least six years, and most of the others liked to take turns taking the piss out on him whenever they got the chance. Half the hall was watching in amusement, kicked back from the worn tables with grins wreathing their faces.

Trev laughed, finally relenting and letting go—but not before he mussed Teddy’s hair, sending it sticking up this way and that. “Listen to the kid growl,” he said, bumping Teddy’s shoulder. “What a fierce one. Like he’s fixin’ to come for my throat or something.”

Teddy dragged his fingers through his hair. “You hear that, Trev?” he demanded, fighting to keep the smile out of his voice.

Trev cocked his head. “I don’t hear nothing.”

“ _Exactly_.”

Len cackled. “Silence!” he said, swatting a hand at Teddy. There were bits of Big League chewing gum stuck to his gnarled old fingers. “We’re hearing silence before the kill; looks like someone here’s a gonner.”

Trev clasped his hands playfully over his big barrel chest while Kelly leaned against Carey, grinning. Teddy shook his head, grinning with them—his big, strange, extended family—as he pushed away from the bench and rose to his feet. “On that note, I’m going to turn in. Night, guys.”

There was a chorus of goodnights, and a few friendly calls following him as he bussed his tray, then grabbed his hat from its hook by the door. He slipped it on as he headed outside, the cool Montana night settling around his shoulders. Lights hung every few feet along the trail, even back here where the hands lived. Up along the foothills, those lit paths looked like lines of fireflies weaving up the mountain. Guesthouses were going dark one by one, but the main lodge overlooked them all with a shimmering, almost otherworldly glow.

He tipped his hat to the mountain, then turned and headed down the path toward the longhouse where the hands slept. The air was utterly still, and if there weren’t so many lights overhead, the sky would be a blanket of stars. Teddy tipped his chin up as he walked, thumbs slipping into his beltloops; the smile he’d been wearing for the others slipped away and he sighed as he sought out the bright trio that made up Orion’s belt.

Teddy remembered his mother tugging him up onto the saddle behind her to go see those stars. He’d been small then, scrawny-limbed and short for his age. The horse had barely noticed his extra weight, and his mother had felt so warm and solid in the fragile cage of his arms.

“Hold on tight, Teddy,” she’d murmured, one hand falling over his clasped ones as if to check his grip. “I’m going to show you something wonderful.”

There was a bend in the mountain trail halfway up its face, where the way started to get steep. If you dared to go there at night, when the sky was clear and cracked open before you, the lip of the mountain cut off the horizon until it was almost like the sky went on forever in all directions—like you’d somehow wandered out into the heart of space.

“Can you find me the hunter, Teddy?” his mom had murmured; they were astronauts together, floating in the black. Only the smell of her perfume and the shift of the horse beneath his thighs kept him tethered to the earth. “Find his belt and the rest will come clear.”

Teddy sighed and rubbed at his brow. It was strange how, after all this time, he could still feel her loss so plainly.

When he reached the fork in the path that led to the bunkhouse, Teddy hesitated, then turned right, away from bed. It was getting late, but he wasn’t tired. If anything, there was too much energy thrumming through his blood. After his visit to his mother’s grave, and his confrontation with Gael, and the way all the hands had pushed so hard for false gaiety knowing full well what today was…he just needed some quiet time away from the world. He just needed to _escape_ , if only for a few hours.

He slipped into the stable as quietly as he could. Soft whickers greeted him, but none of the horses startled as he moved down the long aisle to Inigo’s stall. Inigo had his head over the door, body pressed close as if he’d been waiting for Teddy. When Teddy pulled open the gate, his horse nosed his stomach and gently pushed out toward him.

Teddy smiled, one hand rubbing down Inigo’s dark neck. He really shouldn’t have been surprised. “Thanks, boy,” he said, pressing his face into the thick mane. He drew in a steadying breath, filling his lungs with the sweet, familiar scent. Then, fingers tangled in the long hairs, he shut the stall door and led Inigo out into the night. He didn’t need a saddle or reins with this horse; the moment he pulled himself up with one fluid motion, Inigo was moving, heading toward the gate and the open field beyond.

The valley floor dipped toward the horizon as if flinging its arms out to the sky; overhead, away from the lodge lights, the sky was filled with stars.

Teddy tipped his face up, moving with the steady canter of his horse, and gave himself to the night.

**

He’d spent all of dinner subtly checking the room for Teddy.

After they’d all watched the sun go down, Kelly had taken them up to the main lodge again to officially check in and hand over their keys so the rental could be parked out of sight in the lot. Kelly had given them a tour of the main building and promised them a tour of the whole ranch the next morning, after breakfast.

“Will we be going riding tomorrow?” Billy had asked, trying to hide the way his stomach twisted in anxious pleasure at the thought.

His mother had cut in before Kelly could answer. “Not tomorrow, Billy,” she’d said. “We’re going to work our way up to galloping around the mountainside on horseback, I think.”

“It’s a lot different than the subway, that’s for sure,” his father had added.

Which meant there would be no matching them with horses tomorrow, which meant there would be no Teddy, which meant his creepy obsession was starting to get more and more, well, _creepy_ the longer he scoured each corner hoping to run into him anyway.

 _Just let it go_ , he’d told himself, trying to enjoy the massive dinner they’d prepared. And, later, _God, stop it_ , as he paused in the main hall and practically twisted his neck looking at everyone in a cowboy hat.

Teddy hadn’t been anywhere, and he was starting to freak himself out with just how _much_ he wanted to see him. Billy had had his share of crushes in the past, but this felt like something new and exciting uncoiling low in his belly. Sitting around the campfire with all the other guests after dinner, watching the flames lick up toward the sky and listening with half an ear as some of the ranch hands told stories, he’d felt restless in his own skin as he fought and failed not to think of blue eyes in a handsome face, the quiet drawl of his voice, that _Hulk joke_. It just got worse as the evening wore on and they returned to the cabin for bed (the twins sharing despite their “dibs”, giving Billy the small blue room just off the kitchen.)

Now, all those hours later, his pulse was still fluttering at the base of his neck and the darkness felt disquiet; waiting. Outside his windows, the night sky was lit with all the stars he could never see in New York.

It was like they were _watching_ him.

Billy shivered and kicked aside his blankets, sitting up. He was too restless to sleep. He pressed his fingers to his pulse, feeling the hummingbird-quick flutter, eyes locked on that too-big sky just outside his window.

He wet his lips, then slipped out of bed. He snagged his hoodie and shoes and keys to the cabin, tip-toeing through the main room and out onto the porch. The night air was cool but not unpleasantly cold. Across the ranch, only the main lodge and a small handful of other buildings were still bright—the rest of Lonely Mountain stood sentinel in the black.

Billy filled his lungs with clean air as he shoved on his shoes and locked the door behind him. A walk, he figured. He’d just take a walk and maybe everything would settle down inside him.

It was the most he could do, anyway. And besides…besides, _God_ , the night sky was so big and bright overhead.

He hopped down the steps, face tipped up as he let his feet carry him. He didn’t bother paying attention to where he was going—there was no destination. There was no rush to get here or there. Billy felt as if he’d been unmoored, set adrift on a sea of black as he crossed to the gate and clambered over. The horses had been stabled for the night and the sloping hill stretched wide and free before him. Grass bent under his feet and the occasional wind blew, dragging up the ties of his hoodie to form absent shapes in the dim.

Billy kept his hands deep in his pockets as he walked, and the farther away from the cabins he went, the more open and beautiful the land seemed to become. After fifteen minutes, he could have sworn he was alone in the world. There was nothing but him here; a deep, impossible quiet had settled across his shoulders, and he felt—

He felt like doing something incredibly stupid just for the hell of it. He felt one with nature. He felt like a part of the land and sky.

He bit his lower lip against the strange impulse, then laughed and flung his arms wide—why the hell not? There was no one here to hear him. “The hills are aliiiiive,” he shout-sang, spinning in a big circle, laughing at himself; his heart swelled in his chest, and God, it felt cornily enough _true_. “With the sound of muuusiiicc.”

Not far off in the darkness, a horse whickered, as if laughing. Billy immediately froze; he could feel the heat creeping up his cheeks, mortification swamping the surge of pure joy—and that was _before_ a bemused and already familiar voice added, “Well, don’t let me stop you.”

 _Shit_. Hot Cowboy.

**

There was a long, awkward silence.

“Sorry,” Teddy added, moving up onto his elbow with a sympathetic wince. He’d been sprawled out on the grass, staring up at the night when the kid had come stumbling by. Inigo faded into the darkness, black form only a vague outline, but Teddy could make out the boy’s pale face beneath a snarl of messy hair. “I didn’t mean to stumble into your musical montage.”

“ _Oh my God_.”

His lips twitched. “Hey, no, it’s cool. Seriously. Just a few days ago, half the hands caught me singing _Let It Go_ with a trio of tweens. I’m pretty sure one of them got it on his cameraphone. On the scale of lifetime embarrassments, video proof of just how much I was getting into the power of Elsa trumps a little Maria Von Trapp any day.”

The boy covered his face with his hands. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a hoodie, Teddy noticed. Even in the darkness, his outline was familiar.

“We met before,” Teddy added, sitting all the way up. “When I almost ran you down on the road in. Come on, sit. I’m safely on the ground, so I’m pretty sure I won’t trample you.” He watched as the other boy hesitated, then slowly shuffled his way toward where Teddy was sitting. The grass was flattened out where Inigo had been laying less than half an hour before, and Billy nudged aside a little clump of sod with the tip of his Chucks before dropping into a self-conscious sprawl. The wind picked up, blowing loose strands of dark hair into his face, and his eyes were lowered, lashes long and thick.

Neither of them said anything.

Teddy cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. “So,” he said to break the silence.

“…a needle pulling thread. Okay, wait, ignore that,” the boy added quickly, practically squirming where he sat. “You’ve got to think I’m the biggest dork that ever existed.”

“A trio of tweens. Singing. Let It Go. Complete with some—not to be full of myself here—pretty sweet dance moves. All of it? Caught on film to be played at every single Christmas party from now until I die. There are seriously more embarrassing things in the world, and I promise I’ve done half of them.”

The other boy snorted, knees drawing up, arms wrapping around his shins. He rested his cheek against the crest of his knees, eyes on Teddy’s face. The focused, _intent_ look in those dark eyes was enough to make Teddy’s skin prickle with awareness. “Um,” Teddy said.

“It’s nice to meet you from this angle,” the kid said suddenly. “You’re not half so intimidating when you’re not rearing ten or so feet in the air.”

“Crap.” He winced. “Yeah. I really _am_ sorry about that. I’m usually not that reckless, I swear.”

“No, hey, it’s okay. Seriously.” He shrugged a shoulder, one thumb digging into the dirt in a strangely anxious gesture. He dropped his eyes, and the dark fan of his lashes rested against flushed cheeks. “No harm done.”

“Well. Still, anyway, I should have been more careful. I’m Teddy, by the way,” he added.

The kid looked up, wide mouth quirking. “Oh, I know who you are,” he said immediately…then paused. “Shit, that sounded super creepy.”

Teddy laughed. “I dunno about _super_ creepy. I mean, I guess I’ve heard worse.”

“It puts the lotion in the basket?”

He pointed. “See? That would definitely be worse. Who told you, though? I’m pretty sure I was so frazzled from nearly running you down that I forgot to introduce myself. Wait,” he added. “Actually, I bet I can guess. Was it an aggressively friendly girl named Kelly? If so, you must be one of the Kaplans.”

“Billy, yeah.” Billy gave a half-wave. “Hi.”

“Howdy.”

**

 _Howdy_. Like that was something people said outside of movies.

“Yeah,” Billy said, fighting to keep very still. “Um, howdy back at you.” His fingers wanted to twist together nervously—in the laces of his shoes, in the long grass, in the pull of his hoodie. It was so hard to keep still. He could hear Teddy’s horse occasionally huffing a breath and shaking its mane just a few paces away, and each wind whispered like a Greek chorus across the wide open fields. In the distance, the mountains were a deeper shade of black against the horizon.

And he was letting the silence stretch awkwardly again. Crap.

“So,” Billy said, at the same moment Teddy said, “Well.” He glanced over, crooked grin stretching his face, and his heart gave a ridiculous flutter when Teddy grinned back. It was gratifying to know the other boy felt as flatfooted as he did. It felt real, in a way Kelly—as nice as she was—didn’t. Teddy wasn’t putting on an act, at least right now. He was sprawled back on his elbows, face tipped up to the sky, dimples flashing at the corners of his mouth.

He was ridiculously gorgeous, and Billy hated how _attracted_ he was even as he subtly shifted closer.

“You go first,” Billy said, dragging his fingers through his messy hair.

Teddy leaned in, lightly nudging his knee with his shoulder. “Naw,” he said, face tipped toward his. “You go on.”

“…I seriously have nothing to say. I was just nervously trying to fill the silence. No, really—it’s too quiet out here. I’m not used to being able to hear so much nothing.” At Teddy’s soft, inquiring noise, Billy added, “I mean, there’re cars pretty much all the time, just outside my window. People calling to each other, or music drifting from the wall we share with the brownstone next door. It’s pretty cliché to say it, but they don’t call New York the city that never sleeps for nothing. Out here, though, it’s so…still.”

“It’s not _that_ quiet. C’mon, just listen.”

Billy cocked his head but did as he was told. He listened, and… “Yeah, nothing.”

“Yeah?” Teddy sat up, tipping his hat back to look at him. His expression was mock gravity itself. “Don’t worry. After a few weeks, you’ll be able to hear it thrumming through your blood no matter what you do. This place gets under your skin fast; it echoes in your ears like a drumbeat. Don’t make that face,” he added with a laugh, and Billy flushed at being caught out. “I know you think this is some mumbo-jumbo cooked up for the tourists, but I’m serious—there’s a tempo to this place you’ve got to strain to catch, but once you’ve got it? There’s no shaking free. Mom used to say her heart kept time with the Montana song.”

 _Used to say._ He didn’t mean to repeat the words out loud, and Billy couldn’t hide his wince when Teddy ducked his head. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. It’s none of my business, seriously.”

“No,” Teddy said. “No, it’s okay. It’s been a few years.”

“Still, crap. I have ridiculous foot in mouth disease, and I— Anyway. Um. I look forward to it? To being able to hear it, I mean?” That sounded completely lame, so he rested his elbows against his knees and leaned forward, trying to catch the other boy’s eyes. “Maybe you can show me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Do you want to start now?”

“…sure.” Billy had a deep-seated suspicion of anything that smacked of mysticism, but he was willing to play along. If he was being honest with himself, he was a lot more than _willing_. He’d have agreed to just about anything Teddy suggested if it meant being allowed to sit with him for just a little longer. “Okay, so, what do I do?”

“Just listen.”

“Okay.” He folded his hands and fell silent.

Teddy tipped his chin. “Are you listening?”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Do you hear that?”

He actually strained, as if that would do any good. “Um. Sorry, no—what am I listening for?”

“It’s very, very quiet,” Teddy assured him. “Barely a whisper, actually. Just a soft, breathless call saying Billy… Billy…the hiilllls are aliiiive, with the sound of—”

Billy squawked in protest and Teddy cracked up, eyes crinkling shut, face open and _sweet_ and so, so very evil. “Oh my God,” Billy muttered, trying not to laugh with him. Teddy had the best laugh—it was so infectious it brought a huge grin to his face. “You set that up.”

“I did not!” he protested. Teddy laid a hand over his heart and fluttered his lashes; Billy just snorted and looked away, flushing again. It was a marvel how easily Teddy could make him do that. “I would _never_ do such a dirty, underhanded thing as that.”

Billy twisted until he was sprawled out across the grass. He felt like his cheeks must have been as red as his hoodie and his lips kept twitching up at the corners. One hand rested on his stomach as he stared up at the sky, fingers curling reflexively against the worn cotton. “I hate you,” Billy muttered, not meaning a word of it.

Teddy moved down to sprawl by his side, close. Almost close enough to touch. Billy could feel his heat in the scant inches that separated them. _Stop it, stop it, stop it._

“Naw,” Teddy murmured. Overhead, the sky stretched huge and dark above them, stars winking in a strange, distant canopy. “I don’t reckon you do.”

“ _Reckon_. Okay, Wyatt Earp.”

And the incandescent grin Teddy shot him was bright enough to outshine Venus herself.

**

Billy was in love.

No, wait, that was stupid. That was really, really stupid, and also really, really wrong. It was impossible to form attachments to people with that kind of speed. An hour (two? More? It was hard to tell how much time had passed when it all tumbled together in a happy blur) wasn’t long enough to establish real points of commonality, to grapple with key differences, to understand another person down to the bone the way he thought had to be necessary to call something _love_.

But he was sure feeling _something,_ because his heart went all fluttery and his skin broke out into gooseflesh when Teddy moved easily to his feet, reached down a hand to help him up, and murmured, “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your door.”

Billy reached out to take Teddy’s hand, letting himself be tugged up. The night had gotten chilly and his legs were surprisingly sore from laying out on the cool grass for so long. He tried to hide the wince as he subtly shifted from foot to foot, stretching.

“Thanks for hanging out with me tonight,” Billy said, curling his arms around his waist when Teddy whistled for his horse. Inigo lifted his head and shook out his mane before ambling over to them, idly nosing at Teddy’s stomach before turning to bump against Billy. He grinned and reached out—a little tentative—to brush his fingers over the velvet-soft muzzle. “I had a good time.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Teddy countered seriously. He reached out to rest his hand on the crown of Inigo’s head before sliding down in an absent caress. His fingers paused so close to Billy’s that he couldn’t help but shiver, _aware_. “It was a pretty crummy day, and you made it not quite so bad. I owe you for that.”

He flushed. “That’s me—a one man band of good cheer.” Billy started to pull away, turning toward the distant dark outlines of the cabins, but Teddy caught his sleeve before he got more than a step. He glanced over his shoulder, fingers twitching _so close_ to the other boy’s.

Teddy tipped his head toward Inigo. “When I said I was walking you back,” he murmured, “I didn’t mean on foot. Come on.” He tugged on Billy’s sleeve, drawing him back to his horse’s side.

“…oh God, I don’t know,” Billy said. This close, Inigo suddenly seemed _very_ tall, and there was no saddle or bridle or _stirrups_ , holy crap. “I’ve never even been on a horse before. What if I fall off and die? I’m pretty sure I’d be that kid who fell off and died his first time on a horse.”

Teddy grinned. “You’re not going to die,” he promised. “Come on, I’ll be right there. It’s easy, I swear.”

It was easy for him to say, but Billy was still too dazzled to put up much more of a fight. He relented, flushing hard when Teddy gripped him by the waist ( _big, strong hands, thumbs pressing into the expanse of skin just above his hipbones, face breathlessly close_ ) and _lifted him_ up onto his horse’s back with barely a flicker of effort.

“Holy crap!” Billy said, feeling himself instantly flush a brilliant red. Oh God, Teddy was strong. Teddy was strong, and Teddy was manhandling him, and he really really shouldn’t like that, but he really _really_ did. He was trembling all over, skin too tight and hot and aching.

“Swing your leg around,” Teddy murmured, hands still on him to keep him braced, and Billy did, blindly obedient. He would have done anything Teddy said in that moment. 

Still, the minute he was straddling Inigo properly and Teddy let go, Billy felt another flash of panic. “Oh crap,” he said as Inigo shifted beneath him. “Okay. Okay. Crap. What do I hold on to?” His hands fluttered uselessly in the air.

Teddy laughed and placed a hand on his horse’s flank. Then, in a single easy move, he hoisted himself up, one leg swinging over the dark rump, until he was settled just behind Billy—front flush against his back, warmth surrounding him in a dizzying, incredible way. Billy’s toes curled in his sneakers as muscular arms went around him, Teddy’s fingers tangling in the black mane. His breath was hot against Billy’s cheek, and he could feel the words reverberating in his broad chest as Teddy murmured, “You can hold on to me if you want.” Then, a little louder, “C’mon Inigo: giddyup.”

Inigo immediately shifted into a slow, steady walk. It was bizarre feeling the powerful muscles moving beneath his spread thighs, but really, all Billy could focus on was _Teddy_. The smell of him, clean and welcoming and indescribable, like hay and sweat and the wide Montana valley itself. The feel of his thighs pressed intimately against Billy’s. His arms, around him. His breath tickling the dark hairs at the nape of his neck.

His stomach was a mass of butterflies, and he was mortifyingly turned on—just a little—coils of heat churning low in his belly as they moved toward the silent mountain.

They didn’t say anything on their way back to the cabins. Billy wasn’t sure he could get his voice to work, and Teddy seemed content to soak in the silence. A new flush of pleasure sparked every time Teddy moved against him, though, and the silence didn’t seem awkward or empty. If anything, it was heavy with some hidden meaning he was dying to unravel. It felt like the super-charged moment in a movie right before the hero and heroine kissed.

God.

_God._

He really shouldn’t be thinking like that right now.

They reached Billy’s cabin faster than he could have thought possible, time and distance falling away until they had no meaning. Teddy said, “Whoa,” as they pulled up alongside the porch, and it was easy to reach out and grab the railing, pulling himself off Inigo and over onto the porch’s wide planks. He straightened, hands curled tight around the rail, and looked down to meet Teddy’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Billy said again, breaking the silence all in a rush. “I really… Just. Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Teddy murmured; his voice sounded suspiciously choked with some emotion Billy couldn’t name. “You too. G’night, Billy,” he added, reaching up to tip his hat like a proper cowboy. And then Inigo moved off into the darkness, picking up speed as they passed the cabin and carrying Teddy up the winding path to the stable.

Billy wrapped his arms around his middle and watched him go, heart beating out a mad staccato. They were a dark shape against the brilliant stars—boy and horse one creature—and in that moment, Billy couldn’t think of anything, anyone, he’d wanted more in his life.

There was something sweet about Teddy Altman. Something good. Something warm, and open, and…and _hurt_ inside.

“Good night,” Billy murmured, heart unexpectedly fully, watching with everything he had as the dark shape dwindled, then disappeared against the vast Montana sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, for Cris, who deserves all the cowboys. Visit her at [Tumblr](http://cris-art.tumblr.com/).

He barely slept.

Billy lay in his bed, sheets twisted around his legs, and watched the moon glide across the night sky. He must have dozed off a handful of times—either that, or the sun could _feel_ his impatience for the day to begin—because it seemed like no time at all before the deep black began to fade indigo along the edges. Violet. Lavender. 

And then, _finally_ , gold as the first rays pushed past the distant mountain range.

_All right—now. Now, now, now._

Sucking in a deep breath, Billy kicked aside the twisted sheets and staggered out of bed. The floorboards were cool against his bare feet, almost cold. A low wind rattled his window in its rustic frame, loud enough to drown out the unsteady knocking of his heart as he yanked on yesterday’s jeans, a t-shirt, a fresh pair of socks. He snagged his hoodie and red sneakers—pausing by a mirror just long enough to give up hope of ever taming his hair—and crept as silently as possible out of his room…pausing at the threshold and straining to listen for the low drone of his parents’ snores.

In and out. As comforting as rain. Billy let out a shaky breath and tried to convince himself he had no reason to feel guilty. He was just going for a walk; there was nothing wrong with going for an early ( _early_ ) morning walk.

Toward the stables.

Where he was pretty sure Teddy would be starting his daily chores.

Yup. Perfectly innocent.

The cabin was dim and still unfamiliar, but bars of light were starting to creep across the knotted pine floorboards. They cast wavering bands across his feet as he snuck toward the door, aware he was in the wrong but unable—unwilling—to help himself. He’d spent the entire night thinking about Teddy. He’d watched the horizon for the sun, remembering the way he tipped his face toward the stars, the heat of his body along the curve of Billy’s spine, the scent of horseflesh and soap and _boy_.

Remembering the peculiar warmth of his touch as he helped Billy slide onto the porch; the silhouette he made against the night sky.

Teddy was just so… So… _Beautiful_ and unexpected and overwhelming and new. Billy’d had crushes before, but this felt like something entirely out of the realm of his experience. This wasn’t passing notes in History and sneaking glances in the locker room. This wasn’t anything like the normal greyscale of his life back in New York. Teddy was painted with the bold colors of the Montana sky and mountains and endless sloping valley. He was ghost juniper and cedar and the dark arc of a horse’s mane. He was creaking leather and calloused hands bracing Billy’s hips; a dimple flashing beneath the shadow of a battered Stetson.

He was the elements themselves. And feeble words like _crush_ or _infatuation_ just crumbled away at the mere thought of him.

Whatever Teddy Altman was, he was a hell of a lot bigger than a mere summer flirtation.

…not that Billy planned on flirting. Not that he even knew how.

“Oh God,” he muttered beneath his breath, sliding the door shut silently behind him. He tugged on his shoes and hoodie before dropping lightly from the porch to the springy grass below, unaccountably aware of the way it gave beneath his heels, nothing at all like the familiar sidewalks of home. “Okay. Okay, come on.”

It was a straight shot from the cabin to the nearest T-shaped stable. Billy tried to keep from freaking out or talking himself into running away the whole walk, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched forward as if he could make himself invisible that way. He hopped the rough-hewn fence and tried not to pay attention to the way the stable loomed up before him, larger and larger with each step.

He was going to do this. He was really going to do this.

“Okay,” Billy murmured again, pausing by one of the two main side entrances to stare up at the wide beams. He could hear the stamp of hooves and huffing whicker of…a dozen? More?...horses just through the thrown-wide doorway. The not-unpleasant scent of manure and hay was all around him. He heard low voices.

…crap, what was he going to _say_? _Hi, hello, don’t mind me—I’m just here to stare at Teddy like a demented Troll doll._

Maybe this had been a bad idea. He couldn’t even tell how many of the hands were in there, or if _Teddy_ was in there and not, oh, say, sleeping in after a late, late evening under the stars. What if he worked up the nerve to shuffle inside and Teddy wasn’t even around? What if he asked for him and the hands just stared at him, seeing right through him—knowing exactly why he’d been urging the sun to rise for the last handful of hours, heart beating a frenetic tempo as Billy poured over memories and thought, _I have to see him again. I don’t care how, I don’t care why, I just, I just have to, I have to._

God, there was something seriously wrong with his brain.

And then, purely by chance, Billy shifted to get a better view down the main T-crossing just as Teddy turned the corner from deeper in the stable, and he swore he could feel his heart spasm in response.

Teddy had changed ( _of course he changed; it’s a whole new day, you idiot_ ) into a soft-looking blue plaid and a pair of jeans that had a small tear across one knee. He wasn’t looking up as he headed toward the door, absently winding rough-hewn rope hand to elbow. His bootheels drummed against the floorboards, and his Stetson was pushed back, revealing a thoughtful, almost pensive expression. There were faint violet shadows beneath his eyes.

And then Teddy looked up and nearly stumbled to a stop when he met Billy’s eyes.

Billy’s heart was hammering like a mad thing just from the sight of him. There was a part of him, he realized dizzily, that had almost hoped he’d dreamed up just how _gorgeous_ Hot Cowboy was. As if maybe his mind had been fuzzy with fright their first meeting, or the moonlight had warped a perfectly normal face and made it something beautiful, something extraordinary. His eyes weren’t that blue and his face wasn’t that open. No hair could be that color of Rumpelstiltskin gold.

And yet.

_Yet._

Holy shit, if anything, Teddy in moonlight was nothing compared to the sight of him standing haloed by the rising sun, broad-shouldered body cast in striations of rose and yellow and, yes, _gold_. Billy was pretty sure this crush was going to kill him.

“Hey,” Teddy said, taking an almost-careful step forward.

“Is for horses. …sorry.” Billy fought the urge to cover his face with his hands. God, would he ever stop just blurting whatever stupid bullshit came to his head? “Um. Hey. Hi. Hello. Good morning?”

Teddy paused to toss the looped rope over a rusted hook before moving to join Billy in the doorway. He seemed to fill it up, broad shoulders nearly brushing the frame, big hands shoving into his pockets in a way that made Billy’s eyes want to dip lower. “Morning,” Teddy said, tipping his chin toward Billy. “You’re up early.”

“I like to get an early start on the day,” he said, which was a bald-faced _lie_. Billy was happiest when he could wallow in bed for hours, letting the morning drift unmoored and unchecked into early afternoon as he dozed. “You know, early bird and all that. Um. You’re up early, too.”

He grinned, dimple flashing. Oh God, that dimple. “Yeah, well, it’s part of the job. If I had my druthers, I’d be lazing in bed right now, not mucking stalls.”

 _Lazing in bed._ Billy wasn’t going to let his brain cook up images of that. He really, really wasn’t. “So, mucking is a thing that actually happens?” he tried instead. “I kind of figured half of what I’d seen on tv was utter crock.”

“Well, sure. They don’t make those automatic litter thingamabobs for horses yet.”

“Weeeell,” Billy said. “Maybe not, but I totally have something a thousand times better.”

“What’s that?”

“Me.”

Teddy studied him for a long, silent minute, both brows slowly crawling up. Billy lifted his chin and studied him right back, hands fisted in his pockets, rocking back and forth onto the balls of his feet and fighting not to flush. The rising sun caught on the line of silver at Teddy’s ears; a horse whinnied loudly from just inside the stable.

Billy broke first, flushing and looking down. “Okay, that’s totally swagger I don’t actually possess, but _still_. I’d like to help out. An extra pair of hands can’t hurt, right?”

Teddy offered a lopsided grin, straightening from his ridiculously perfect slouch. “You’re telling me you woke up at the crack of dawn to drag your butt over here and ask if I’ll put you to work? On your _vacation_?”

“Well, you know. When in Rome.”

“My mama used to say all everybody deep down wanted was to be a cowboy,” Teddy mused, pretending to consider.

Billy just offered a lopsided grin. “Yeehaw,” he said.

That seemed to decide it. Teddy snorted and tugged off his hat, tossing it toward Billy with a dazzling grin. Billy yanked his hands out of his pockets just in time, fumbling with the Stetson for a mortifying minute before managing to catch it against his skinny chest. It was sun-warm beneath his fingers. Heavier than he expected.

Billy looked up to meet Teddy’s eyes, startled and hopeful, and the smile Teddy offered was almost _shy_. “Welcome aboard, pardner,” he teased, dragging his fingers through blond hair, and Billy wanted to fling himself against him and kiss the sweet curve of his mouth. He wanted to drag his fingers through that hair, feel that broad chest against his own, breathe in the surprised stutter of his breath before licking deep, _deeper_ , into his mouth. He wanted to drag his tongue along the single bead of sweat winding its way down Teddy’s temple, and, fuck, okay, he needed to stop thinking like that _right the fuck now._

“Thanks,” Billy said in a mortifyingly strangled voice. He plopped the hat on his head, tipping the brim so it could shade some of his flushed face from view.

If Teddy noticed how utterly flatfooted and awkward Billy had become, he was kind enough to pretend he didn’t. “Come on, then,” he said, jerking his chin back toward the main T-crossing before turning and heading that way, stride an easy lope. “We’ve got six stalls to freshen and the whole aisle to sweep before the early risers start showing up for their lessons. We only have to completely strip two of them—the others are just a simple mucking.”

“Right,” Billy agreed. He only had the vaguest grasp of what all that meant. “Simple mucking, got it.”

Teddy glanced at him, lips twisted into a crooked grin. “You pretty much have no idea what that actually means, huh?”

“Not a clue.”

“Well, luckily for you, I’m here to teach you all about the wonders of shoveling hay and horse poo.” Teddy paused at a stall, giving a low whistle. A familiar black head lifted over the lowest curve of the door, muzzle butting against a plaid-covered shoulder. “Inigo here is an especially messy housekeeper, aren’t you, boy?”

Billy watched the way Teddy stroked strong fingers along the delicate muzzle; his heart gave a ridiculous little thrill. “Um,” he said, flushing when Teddy glanced at him. Shit, he hoped he’d managed to keep the oogling off his face. “So, has he ever had his shot at the six-fingered man?”

Teddy snorted. “Not yet, but we’re not ruling it out. Do you want to pet him?”

“I, sure, but.” He gestured and Inigo jerked his head up with a whinny. “But, see, _that,_ ” Billy finished. “The only horses I’ve ever been around were the sad ones pulling buggies in Central Park, and I don’t think— I mean— I don’t want to do anything to, um…”

He trailed off because, really, what could he say? He didn’t want to make an idiot of himself? He didn’t want to make Teddy decide he wasn’t worth his attention?

It had been easier last night. Teddy had been there the whole time, strong hands lifting him, big body bracketing his, arms settling so easily around him as Inigo moved slowly across the moon-struck fields. Teddy’s breath warm against his cheek, his heart beating a steady drum against Billy’s back.

He hadn’t been given time to over-think, then. Now…

Billy wet his lips and glanced away, down the row of stalls. He could hear a few of the other hands talking somewhere nearby, and the sporadic gust of breath or whinny. Inigo shook out his mane, head jerking again, one hoof stamping against the packed earth and straw of his stable.

…and Teddy reached down to take Billy’s hand.

Billy’s head jerked up, entire body bursting with sudden energy—a shower of sparks, a fucking confetti cannon of emotion. His heart lurched in his chest and he could have sworn his blood was thrumming hard enough that Teddy _had_ to feel the rush of it beneath his calloused fingers as he lifted Billy’s hand—fingers curled around his wrist, now, grip light but impossibly warm—and guided it to Inigo’s dark muzzle.

Inigo whinnied again, but he didn’t pull away. Billy bit his bottom lip, sucking in a breath and holding the sweet hay-scented air in his lungs as Teddy brought his palm against the…God, incredibly soft muzzle.

It was like velvet, or the fuzz of a peach. Only it was _alive_ against his fingers, warm and delicate. Billy let out his breath on a gust, carefully stroking that impossibly soft skin. He barely noticed when Teddy squeezed his wrist, then let go. “Oh my God,” Billy breathed; he gently rubbed up the long nose, between those dark eyes. Inigo nudged closer, blowing out a breath; he could feel it against his palm when he slid his hand down again. “Oh my God, he’s amazing.”

“He likes you,” Teddy said. “If I had any sugar cubes on hand, he’d be half in love.”

Billy glanced at him, eyes huge, and Teddy laughed. His dimples flashed dark against his cheeks, and Billy’s heart gave another helpless lurch. “Baby steps,” he said. “Let’s edge our way toward the hopeless devotion, okay? Or I might have to chase him down to keep him from following you back to New York.”

“He can follow me anywhere,” Billy promised, eyes locked with Teddy’s—and it felt like something passed between them, something deep and real and incredible. He was opening his mouth to say something more (anything, really; he just didn’t want Teddy to look away) when a sharp voice called:

“Altman. What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?”

Teddy jerked away, turning toward the source. It wasn’t until Teddy pulled back that Billy realized just how _close_ the two of them had been standing. He shivered, turning his head to spot a boy around their age, maybe a year older. He stood at the main T-crossing, arms crossed over his chest. His dark brows were drawn into an unfriendly scowl.

Teddy cursed beneath his breath, then turned back to Billy. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, touching the small of Billy’s back—which, _oh holy crap_ —light before turning away to stride down the aisle. Angrily, Billy would have said, though he hadn’t been able to see it on his face.

He watched with open curiosity as Teddy grabbed the other boy’s elbow, pulling him toward one of the exits. The boy yanked away, expression hardening even further. He said something in a low murmur and gestured angrily down the row of stalls—toward _Billy_.

Billy flushed and jerked his head forward before he could be caught staring. He reached up to tentatively brush his fingertips over the softsoftsoft black ears, watching as they twitched like a cat’s at his caress—stomach sinking hard at the idea that he might have gotten Teddy in some kind of trouble.

He shouldn’t have come. He shouldn’t have let his stupid crush get the better of him. He hadn’t been thinking, and his thoughtlessness might have been enough to really fuck things up for the guy he was…maybe…sort of…starting to really like. _Why do you have to go and ruin everything?_ Billy thought with an internal sigh.

Inigo gave a low whinny as if agreeing.

“Thanks for the show of support,” Billy muttered, stroking between his eyes again. He wondered if it wouldn’t be better if he slunk away while the other boys were arguing. “That’s real helpful.”

Before he could work out what to do, however, the dark-haired boy hissed something particular angry-sounding, shooting a glare he could feel like a blow at Billy, and stalked away. Billy watched out of the corners of his eyes as he slammed through the northernmost door into some sort of tack room, utterly stunned. Holy shit, what the hell? Teddy just stood there and watched him go, shoulders rounded forward, hands clenched into fists.

He was—

Was he _trembling?_

Billy couldn’t tell, and he didn’t know what to _do_. When push came to shove, he barely knew Teddy. A monster crush and a few hours swapping stories under the stars didn’t give him the right to offer comfort. But…it was clear Teddy was upset, and even if he barely knew him, had no idea what had just _happened_ , Billy wanted to reach out and make it better, somehow. He wanted to at least try.

But would he make it worse if he tried? And was it really his place? And, Jesus, the way that kid looked at him…

Teddy started to turn, and Billy jerked his eyes forward again, tense, aware of each tred of those cowboy boots as Teddy rejoined him. He was trembling too, he realized; his fingers shook as he rubbed them lightly across Inigo’s muzzle.

“Sorry,” Teddy said, coming up alongside him again. His voice sounded subtly different; strained. “That was just the boss’s son. I’m behind on my duties today and really need to get to it; maybe it would be better if—”

“Yeah,” Billy said, interrupting. He knew where this was going anyway. “Maybe I should head back to the cabin. My mother wanted to take an early morning hike, anyway.”

Teddy flushed, but nodded. “Okay, sure. I’ll be working with the horses all day, but maybe I’ll see you around, later.”

“Later,” he agreed. Billy pulled back, but his hands felt awkward now that he didn’t have Teddy’s horse to occupy them. He shoved them into his pockets instead, turning away.

\--but he swung back after just three steps, blurting, “I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

Teddy’s head jerked up, long ends of his bangs falling into his eyes. He brushed them aside irritably with the back of a wrist, his other hand lifted to touch Inigo’s mane as the horse nosed hopefully against his chest. Looking for those sugar cubes? “No,” he said. “I mean, _really_. No, you didn’t. If you weren’t here, it would have been something else. Anything else. It doesn’t matter.”

Billy’s hands balled into fists in his pockets. “He’s a real asshole, then,” he said; Teddy’s voice was so _sad_ , it was like a punch to the sternum.

His smile, Billy noted a second later, was even sadder. “Not really,” Teddy said. “At least, not without provocation. I’ll see you later? Maybe you can convince your mom to give horseback lessons a try.”

Billy swallowed and slowly nodded. He wanted to push for more ( _not without provocation?_ ), but…not now. Not yet. “Sure,” he said, taking a step back. “Yeah. Definitely. I’ll, um, work on her. I’ll see you around, in the meantime.”

“Yeah,” Teddy said, but Billy was already turning and hurrying out of the stable, painfully aware of the closed door at one end and Teddy watching him go from the other. He couldn’t say why, but he felt as if he’d fallen into the middle of something _serious_ ; like he’d accidentally kicked off the start of a Rube Goldberg machine, and there was no telling where the twists and turns would take him.

 _Maybe this is a bad idea_ , he thought, fleeing across the lawn toward his cabin. The sun was pushing up into the gorgeous, wide open sky; for the first time, he was too mixed up inside to really appreciate the beauty. _Maybe I should just keep to myself._

He didn’t want to step into the middle of some kind of feud. He didn’t want to make things worse for Teddy, and he certainly didn’t want to bring any trouble down on his own head. He had his share of problems back at home without inviting more negative attention while he was supposed to be on _vacation._

 _Hot Cowboy can handle it on his own,_ Billy told himself, scurrying up onto the porch and letting himself into the cabin. He didn’t glance back toward the stables, slipping inside and creeping back toward his room. _I can just enjoy the countryside, have a good time with my family, and not get neck-deep in whatever bad blood is brewing here._

The way that other boy had looked at him, Jesus. Billy shivered and pushed his door shut, toeing off his shoes and shimmying out of his jeans. He was just starting to tug his hoodie off, convincing himself that Teddy was hot, and nice, but not _that_ hot (not hot enough to risk Billy becoming the target of some asshole with a grudge) when his hands knocked against the cowboy hat he’d completely forgotten he was wearing.

Teddy’s cowboy hat.

“Oh, balls,” Billy muttered, reaching up and slowly pulling it off. It was warm and worn—clearly well-loved. When he brought it to his face and took a breath, it smelled like hay and sunshine and sweat and…Teddy.

He closed his eyes and remembered the faint tremors running through Teddy’s body as he watched the other boy storm away. He remembered the barely controlled sadness in his voice.

Billy collapsed back onto his bed, clutching the hat to his chest. “Oh fuuuuuck,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He already had more than his fair share of people who hated him back home; he didn’t need to come to Montana to find himself another asshole who’d like nothing more than to shove him around for being nerdy and queer and steadfast in his refusal to conform. But, God, Teddy’s _voice_ when he’d said _not without provocation_ , as if he blamed himself for whatever had just gone down.

As if, maybe, he was used to blaming himself.

“Such an idiot, Kaplan,” Billy muttered, pulling the hat over his face and thrashing quietly against the twisted covers. He was going to end up getting his ass handed to him by some dark-haired cowboy; he just knew it. All for a crush he _barely knew_. “Such, such, _such_ an idiot.”

**

Teddy finished up his morning chores in record time, all-too-aware of Gael slipping in and out of the barn as if to keep an eye on him. He was glad Billy had left—Gael had gone _off_ at the sight of him, dressing Teddy down in a vicious whisper—but at the same time…

Well. He’d been looking forward to spending a little time with Billy, that was all.

He frowned down at the work sink, eyes unfocusing as dirt and bits of hay swirled lazily down the drain. That _was_ all, wasn’t it? Gael had accused him of having some kind of ulterior motive, like he was trying to worm his way back onto the Kaplan’s case through their son or something, but it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.

“There’s no crime in being friendly,” Teddy muttered, twisting the rusted tap with all his strength, then shaking his hands dry. Most of the hands had scattered as the earliest risers came to poke around the barn. He could hear voices drifting through the thick tackroom door—girlish excitement and Kelly’s familiar laugh. The sound of it made his heart constrict. If he Gael hadn’t yanked him off two cases, he’d be out there, too.

Better not to think about that.

Instead, he dragged his fingers through his hair and slipped out the back entrance, closing the tack room door silently behind him. The sun was beating down against the rolling green hills, just hot enough to lend a pleasant ache to the day. A few wildflowers had cropped up between mowings—yellow and orange dotted the springy carpet, and he couldn’t resist the urge to bend and snag one as he headed up to the administration bunk. He rubbed a silky petal between his fingers before tugging it free, letting it and the rest of its fellows fall in a colorful trail behind him.

He was _not_ thinking of the old schoolyard game: _he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me._

Teddy glanced over his shoulder when he reached the rustic-looking door, Lonely Mountain sigil branded into the old wood, and caught sight of Kelly leading the White girls out into the smallest of the rings. They were wearing matching pink cowgirl hats and bedazzled pink shirts. The sight of them was enough to make Teddy grin despite the echoing pang of loss.

 _He_ should have been out there with them.

He sighed and knocked his boots against the sill, kicking free clods of dirt, then stepped inside. The main office was just as pseudo-rustic as the lodge, with a pitched ceiling dominated by a single iron chandelier. The main desk was empty, so Teddy saw himself down through the hallway toward the hand’s breakroom—where green linoleum replaced more costly fitted pine floors and the air smelled like burned coffee and dry erase markers.

“Hey, Teddy,” one of the girls around his age, Carnie, said, barely glancing up from her book. “What’d you do to piss off the boss this time?”

Teddy’s heart sank.

“What do you mean?” he said, trying to hide the worry on his face. He needn’t have bothered; Carnie didn’t look up from her book again. Instead, she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, toward the massive whiteboard employee schedule that took up most of one wall.

There were a lot of moving parts in a working ranch, and a lot of jobs that needed covering, especially when there were _also_ guests to keep happy at all hours day and night. The hands were worked into and out of rotations regularly, with enough flexibility to keep them on their toes, but enough predictability to keep them from complaining. A schedule was set month by month, but it was up to the individual to check each week to make sure nothing had changed as people got sick, new guests showed, the random shitstorm of _life_ blew on through.

Teddy had checked just yesterday to confirm that his name had been stricken from the recurring tabs marked KAPLANS and WHITES: STABLES. Gael had erased his name on each of their tabs, but everything else had been the same.

Now, as Teddy’s eyes scanned over the whiteboard, he didn’t see his name _anywhere_. Not on any guest rosters where he could look forward to a decent tip. Not on duty in the stables. Not on repair jobs or the hated deskwork or even a simple turn as the _dishwasher_.

He had been stricken from the schedule—the beating heart of the ranch—as if he didn’t exist.

“Jesus,” Teddy muttered, feeling a cold fear settle deep in his stomach.

Some of that fear must have been clear in his voice, because Carnie closed her book over her thumb and twisted around to look at him. “Must’ve been a mistake,” she said. “Even if they’re calling you on the carpet for something, they’re not going to take you off of _everything_. Tucker’s in his office if you want to double-check.”

Tucker Prett was the office wrangler. “Executive assistant”, he liked to point out, but even he smirked when he said it. He’d been a cowboy long before most of the hands had saddled their first horse, but a bad hip and a tendency to curse when it took to flaring up kept him out of sight—and earshot—of the guests.

“Yeah,” Teddy said, holding on to that one hope. He couldn’t have been yanked off duty for the whole rest of the summer; room and board would still be taken care of—a contract was a contract—but he’d have _nothing_ coming in to add to his savings. It’d be whole months, wasted. Gael couldn’t do this to him. “Good idea.” He slipped out of the room and took a left down the hall, heading deeper into the administrative building.

There were accountants here, sitting in front of computers, and a few marketers dreaming up ways to make the Lonely Mountain more widely known. Tucker had a small office off the huge corner setup that belonged to Gael’s dad. His door was open, and Teddy could hear the soft staccato of curses drifting beneath the clatter of keystrokes.

He rapped his knuckles against the doorframe.

“Step right the fuck up but hold your trap a tick or two,” the old man said, beetled brows scrunched tight as he scowled at his screen. “M’trying to finish a thought, but I can’t pry it out’ve my own thick skull. Christ. Jesus Christ.”

Teddy waited patiently (well, as patiently as he could manage, considering) as the older man hunted and pecked his way through the end of his thought. It was excruciating watching him work so slowly, the way it was always painful to see someone fumble at a task or concept that came as easy as breathing. Teddy didn’t let the frustration show on his face, though. All he had to do was remember his mother bumping his shoulder lightly, blond hair falling out of its beautifully messy braid, and saying: _Baby, there are just sometimes when you’ve got to realize you’ve been given gifts other people haven’t, for all sorts of reasons. Money, training, talent. What matters is that you don’t judge anyone else based on the cards life handed to you._

Wise words. Good ones to live by.

…but then, maybe now wasn’t a good time to be thinking about his mother.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._ Annnnnd _tap_. Tucker grunted in approval, then pushed back from his desk. He waved Teddy in. “Well, don’t lurk. Get your ass in and tell me what’s on your mind. Though,” he added, riffling through the ceramic bowl balanced precariously atop his in tray and tossing a butterscotch toward Teddy, “I have a pretty good idea already.”

Teddy anxiously twisted the yellow cellophane around the candy. “My name’s not on the schedule,” he said.

Tucker grabbed another candy for himself and leaned back with a sigh. “Yup, got it in one. Just call me Miss fucking Cleo, yeah?” He popped the butterscotch into his mouth and crunched it hard between his teeth, but his eyes never left Teddy’s face. “I took you off the board this morning.”

“What?” He hadn’t been expecting _that_. He’d been assuming Gael had done it himself, the way he’d taken Teddy of the Whites and Kaplans. Hearing that _Tucker_ was responsible was an unexpected blow. “But. Wait. _Why?_ ”

“Got a report a little while ago that you’re fucking around with one of the guests. _Literally_ , if you follow.” Teddy went very still. “Now, I don’t know who it is, and right now, I don’t give two flying shits. I also don’t care if it’s _true_. But if that kind of rumor starts going around, and it catches the ears of the boss, you’re going to be hurting and hurting bad. Boss don’t stand for any kind of diddling the people who are paying us for a good, wholesome time, you got it?”

And what the hell could he say to _that?_ “I got it,” Teddy said, though he had to force the words out past his shock. He hadn’t been— He’d only just— An evening spent watching the stars and a morning with the horses didn’t _mean anything_. It wasn’t as if he had done anything _wrong_. He’d never even thought of Billy that way. 

(Had he?)

“But sir,” he added, “I really didn’t do anything. I don’t know who told you I had,” which was a _lie_ , of course, “but they must’ve jumped to a wrong conclusion. I’ve never—”

Tucker thumped his hand on the desk, startling Teddy into silence. “ _Never?_ Never’s a strong word to be throwing around, considering your history here, don’t you think?”

 _Your history here._ Teddy would have bet anything Tucker didn’t know anything more about _his history here_ than the rest of the hands. There were all kinds of rumors—had been for years now, ever since the night things went so wrong—but there wasn’t a soul he’d ever confided in. Only three people knew Teddy’s _history_.

Three still alive.

“Well?” Tucker demanded, as if he honestly expected an answer. “What the fuck you got to say to that?”

Teddy’s hands curled into impotent fists. “Yes sir.”

“I’m not trying to rub your face in nothing. Rich widows or lonely wives can be tempting, I know.” Which just went to show how _little_ he actually did know. Tucker leaned back farther, drumming his fingers against his stomach. His eyes—canny but rheumy with age—never left Teddy’s face. “God knows I had a few back in my day. But things were different, then. And we live and die by one cardinal rule here.”

He suddenly rocked forward, one finger jabbing at Teddy hard. “Do. Not. Fuck. With. The. Guests. The boss won’t have it, and anything _he_ won’t have, _I_ won’t. You got it, kid?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said with numb lips. His clenched fists trembled in his lap, thankfully hidden by the lip of Tucker’s desk. It was all he could do to keep himself in check. “I got it.”

“And I won’t hear tales of you fucking around with any of the guests? I won’t have to watch you when you’re roving out amongst the ladies?”

 _Jesus._ “No,” Teddy said.

“And you get why you were yanked off the schedule now? You see I’m just trying to protect you?”

He clenched his jaw and gave a sharp nod.

“Let’s hear those words, Teddy. And let’s hear you say it’s not gonna happen again, while you’re at it.”

The bitter unfairness of it all almost closed his throat, but Teddy managed a stiff: “Yes, I get it. No, it won’t happen again.”

“Good!” Tucker said with a crooked grin; his discolored, snaggled old teeth looked like the rusted end of a rake. “Not get your ass out of my chair and go enjoy the week off.” Tucker snagged his cup of coffee and waved it broadly at Teddy, as if the unpleasantness had passed and they were great pals again. “Once I’m sure the rumors haven’t reached the boss, I’ll slap you back on the schedule and it’ll be business as fucking usual, yeah?”

He stood. He fought to keep his face politely blank. God, it was a struggle. “Yessir,” Teddy said, instinctively reaching to touch the brim of his hat—only he didn’t have his hat. _Billy_ had his hat.

Teddy made the aborted movement an awkward jerk of his thumb, then turned on his heel and strode out of the office. His bootheels drummed loudly against the floorboards, like the unsteady echo of a giant’s heart. He could only think two things:

Gael was never going to let him be, not as long as he lived at the Lonely Mountain, and;

He needed to get the hell out of here before he lost his _mind_.

“Hey, so how it’d go?” Carnie asked, leaning against the breakroom doorjamb. She had her arms crossed over her breasts, paperback still tucked around one finger. She didn’t wait to hear his answer; instead, she pulled back with a low whistle, keeping out of his way.

He didn’t want to think about what she might be seeing on his face. He didn’t want to think, period. This was all— It was _bullshit_. It was complete and utter _bullshit_ , and Gael knew it, Tucker knew it, Teddy knew it.

If Gael’s father bothered to see past his own rage and grief and denial, he’d know it too.

It didn’t matter that Teddy had been seen talking (flirting) with a guest. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if he’d been caught doing a heck of a lot more than talking. What mattered was that Billy was a boy. What mattered was that Gael was the one who caught them. And it would never stop mattering so long as he stayed here, trapped by the specter of a single mistake and the terrible loss that one lapse in judgment had brought them.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck._

Teddy went tearing out of the administration building with a wild surge of emotion building and building and building in his chest, threatening to come tearing out with a terrible howl. Once he hit the grass, he was sprinting, tearing across the beautiful carpet of wildflowers and up toward the distant paths that wound sleepily across the face of the Lonely Mountain itself. He wanted to _yell_ , but he couldn’t do that here—not with so many eyes on him—and the pressure of so many eyes, of the weight of so much _memory_ and _guilt_ was a physical battery, a gauntlet.

Joe looked up as he raced past and started to call to him, but Teddy continued without pause, feeling the old cowboy’s eyes on him. Sad and heavy, as if he could hear what the the whole ranch, was thinking:

_If he’d just kept himself to himself, then no one would have had to die._

It echoed through the valley. It followed the erratic pace of his heart. “Stop it,” Teddy gasped, words torn from his throat by the wind. It kicked up hard as he ran up the path, out from the shelter of the lodge as he just kept running, right up the sheer face of the mountain and up up up into the wide Montana sky. He ducked his head, feeling the burn of tears; he couldn’t say whether he was angry or hurt or guilty or afraid. Maybe all four. Maybe he was just frustrated that after all this time, even he couldn’t let go of what had happened that terrible night.

Of what he’d done.

And why, in the end, he deserved whatever punishment Gael still had in him to give.

**

This sucked.

This really, really _sucked._

“Do you know what the Roman legionnaire with the giant butt was called?” David asked, grabbing a pinecone and chucking it down the well-worn path.

Andy’s pinecone followed half a second later, hitting the base of a tree and rebounding back. Billy kicked it irritably. “No,” Andy said, kicking Billy’s ankle for his pains. “What?”

“Boys,” their mother said from several paces away. “Can we just—”

“Gluteus Maximus!” David crowed. The echo of his voice carried impossibly loud around them, caught by the solid wall of the mountain and bounced back toward the valley. Above them, birds startled and took flight.

Andy sucked in a surprised breath, then _grinned._ “GLUTEUS MAXIMUS!” he called, cupping his hands around his mouth to encourage the echo. “GLUTEUS MAXIMUS, THE BIG-BUTTED ROMAN!”

Billy kicked another pinecone hard, scowling down at the ground with all his might as his brothers whooped and raced around, shouting nonsense like _Hail Big Butt!_ and _For Rome!_

“Boys!” their mother called again, but she didn’t sound half as annoyed as she should have. If anything, there was a laugh in her voice, trembling like a leaf in the wind when David spun around, arms spread wide, and bellowed, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?”

“Oh my God,” Billy muttered, yanking his hood up over his head. Family time really, really, _really_ sucked sometimes. No wonder all the best heroes were orphans. “Would you please fall off the mountain and _die?_ ”

He yelped when a shoulder bumped his, nearly stumbling over his own feet and face planting onto the rocky path. Only Kelly’s quick reflexes saved him, a strong hand catching him by the bicep and hauling him back onto relatively steady feet. She looked down at him, a single brow arched, and Billy flushed.

“Thanks,” he said.

This was their third hike of the day. As threatened, his mother had corralled them a few hours after dawn and had marched them (Andy and David protesting the entire way) up the easiest slope. The air had been cool and clear, but the sky no longer held the beautiful pinks of the early morning. He’d stomped along in their wake, focusing everything he had on enjoying family time and not letting himself think about Teddy.

Then, after lunch, came the second hike, and another hour of fighting to keep his mind perfectly blank.

Now, edging toward twilight, the cornflower sky was deepening at the edges, dipping toward indigo like rims around a clear blue iris, and _all_ he could think about was Teddy’s eyes.

“You look like you’re a million miles away,” Kelly said, easily falling into step with him. “You wanna chat about it?”

Billy fought to keep the reflexive _God, no_ off his face. “Um, thanks,” he said instead, scuffing his feet as they wound up the face of the mountain. Birds chirped overhead, and the distant pound of hooves echoed eerily through the valley. It seemed like no matter where he went, here, he was constantly reminded of horses. “But it’s cool. There’s nothing up.”

“I know you’re real eager to get started with your horseback lessons.” Billy jerked his head up at that, startled, but she just offered him one of her too-sunny grins. “Saw you creeping ‘round the stables this morning, just after sunrise. I go for a run every morning,” she added when he just stared at her in stricken silence. “Nothing gets the body ready for the day more than a nice run!”

Billy made a strangled noise of agreement, and it was a battle to keep from flushing as hot as the sunset. He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, grateful for the hood blocking most of his expression. He’d never even considered that their well-meaning guide might _see_ him. What must she have been thinking?

What conclusions had she drawn?

“Um,” he said, desperately racking his brains for something to say. “Yeah. I just, you know, really like horses.”

Kelly shot him a sly grin, and he felt his stomach sink. She wasn’t buying it. “Oh yeah,” she said, bumping Billy’s shoulder again as if they were great friends. “Well, these horses are the best you’ll ever meet, I swear to gosh. I ain’t never met better myself. And if you’re real careful with them, and treat them right, then you might just find there’s nothing better than taking a chance on forging a strong relationship. With the right horse.”

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

“Too bad your mama is so strict about taking her time before letting y’all head to the stables, but we’ll both work on her, won’t we?” Kelly nudged him again and winked broadly. Billy desperately wondered how to ask her to _never do that again_ while still hoping she’d spill more details. Could she be implying that Teddy might… Crap, he shouldn’t be thinking like that. “In the meantime, you just keep on slipping out to visit with them whenever you want. And oh, hey, I can take messages. I see them every evening, after you all head up to the lodge for dinner. I don’t mind passing word back and forth if that’s what you need.”

Billy glanced quickly over his shoulder; his parents were still meandering around slowly, hands brushing every now and again. He was so freaked out by what Kelly was suggesting that he barely spared the energy to be grossed out by his parents’ show of affection. “You’re going to take a message from me to the horses?” he said.

“Why not? Reckon I know them better than anyone.”

That was a horrible idea. Why on earth would Kelly think volunteering to be a go-between between him and Teddy would go anywhere good?

And why on earth was he actually considering it?

“…how would you get the message to them?” he asked slowly, wincing internally. _Bad idea, bad idea, abort abort abort!_

“Meaning, would I read it?” Kelly’s smile turned sly, _teasing,_ and it was all Billy could do not to turn abruptly on his heel and go sprinting away. Earlier in the day, he’d almost managed to convince himself that his rapidly growing crush on Teddy wasn’t worth the trouble it was likely to heap onto his head, but damn it…he hadn’t been able to shake the thought of him all day. The slow warmth of his smile. The way his calloused fingers had felt gripping his hand as he led it to Inigo’s muzzle. The clean, outdoorsy scent of him. His _voice._

It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, everything from the blue sky to the sound of hoofbeats to the golden ragweed bobbing along the edges of the path reminded him of the cowboy.

So. If he was already going to obsess over him, Billy thought, why not go all the way?

“Yeah,” he murmured, stomach twisting into anxious shapes. “Meaning would you read it?”

Kelly glanced over her shoulder, then up the path toward where his brothers were pinwheeling about, zigzagging up the winding trail like prop planes. Her voice, dropped low, was suddenly—unexpectedly—serious. “There’s no one I know who’s more deserving of a little happiness,” she said. “No matter where it comes from or for how long he gets to keep it—so long as you promise to leave him in better shape than you found him, I won’t take a single peep.”

Billy shivered, no so much at the very lightly implied threat, but at the idea that…well, that this woman who knew Teddy so well might think that there was actually a chance of something here. It was hard to hold still in the face of that kind of possibility. “I understand,” Billy said; he looked up to meet her warm brown eyes. It was so easy to just give in and hope. “And yeah—I’d like you to send a message, if you don’t mind. Tonight.”

The smile she gave him then was dazzling, nearly enough to blind. “ _Awesome_ ,” Kelly said, immediately diving into her bright pink fanny pack to pull out a pen and a palm-sized legal pad. She handed both over, then stuck her fingers into her mouth and whistled sharply.

Behind them, Billy’s parents stopped. Ahead, his brothers tumbled into stillness.

“All right, Kaplans!” Kelly called, clapping her hands. “If you follow me through this little side path here for just three minutes, there’s a view of the valley that’s sure to knock you for a loop!” She glanced once at Billy and winked, then headed for a path that was barely more than a timid break in the treeline.

David and Andy, predictably, went racing after Kelly, whooping. Billy’s parents followed at a more sedate pace, talking quietly to each other. They were out-right holding hands now, Billy noticed. His heart was pounding too hard in his chest for him to really care.

His mind was already spinning with possibilities.

He waited until the branches twitched back into place behind his mother, then dropped into a crouch by the edge of the path and uncapped the pen. He stared down at the blank memo pad, racking his brain and knowing he only had minutes to come up with something to say. Some kind of…of _overture._

_Hi. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please throw me over your saddle and ride off with me into the sunset._

…that would probably be a little too forward, all told.

“Argh, brain, work,” Billy muttered. What were you supposed to say to someone that you kinda sorta _liked?_ He’d never been in this sort of position before. All his other crushes had been too out of reach—or too obviously straight to even risk approaching. How was it that he was going to college soon and he didn’t even know how to make a first awkward overture? Wasn’t this something girls learned how to do when they were preteens?

He was wasting time.

“Billy?” his mother called from just down the short path. She didn’t sound far away at all.

“Coming!” he called back. He thwacked the memo pad against his forehead, as if that could somehow jog a brilliant idea free, and viciously wished he’d been able to go through this sort of thing when _he_ was a preteen—instead of having to bottle it all up inside, questioning and terrified and uncertain as all the boys and girls around him fell so easily into the roles they saw in the movies and Billy…Billy just huddled up for a few years and hoped to God that no one noticed he hadn’t fallen in line with the rest.

What would one of his friends write if he was trying to start a flirtation with a girl?

Fuck, no, that would _never_ work.

“I suck, I suck so bad.” This was such a bad idea. He couldn’t do this. _Obviously_ he couldn’t. He had no idea what he was doing—all he knew was that he _wanted_. That he liked Teddy, and when they were alone together, Teddy seemed to like him…stupid sense of humor and all.

Maybe that was the answer.

Crap, he hoped that was the answer.

“ _Billy!_ ”

“COMING!” he yelled, pen dashing across the page as he quickly jotted a message. Then, before he could let himself second-guess, he ripped out the sheet and folded it up, palming it as he stood and hurried after his family. He passed it to Kelly as he shouldered his way between his brothers to stand on the little lookout, heart racing fast and high in his throat, entire world spinning like a top around him.

He’d done it. For better or worse, he’d _done it._ Now all he had to do was wait to see what Teddy would say in return. He took an unsteady breath and forced himself to relax as much as he could, looking out across the valley from the midway point up the Lonely Mountain. A purple range smudged the horizon as the sun dipped ever-lower in the sky.

And down below him, the world dipped into the low bowl of the valley, stretching out green and blue and gold as far as his eye could see—its beauty echoing back to Billy in its own sort of answer.

**

**Teddy—**

**Missing something? Here’s a hint: it goes on your head and rhymes with cat.**

**I’m holding it in protective custody for the foreseeable future. I hear you haven’t been treating it well—tossing it around to random city boys with Wild West pretentions. Meet me for coffee sometime and maybe we can talk terms.**

**—Billy**

**PS: I’m so bringing sugar cubes next time.**


	3. Chapter 3

Teddy read the note.

Blinked.

Read it again.

It didn’t seem to matter just how many times he scanned the words, trying to puzzle them out, to decode them, as if he’d discovered a map and a plastic ring in the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. No matter how much he tried to find some kind of perfectly innocent intention behind the untidy script, the words kept the same light, funny, _flirtatious_ tone.

…that was a flirtatious tone, right?

God, he was so out of his depth.

“Uh,” he said, looking up. Kelly was sitting across from him, arms folded on the rough mess hall table, body pitched forward. _Waiting_. Her bright, mobile expression was wide open in her excitement. “What does it mean?”

“Having trouble with some basic English, Teds?”

He flushed and looked down at the note again. Billy had a graceless scrawl to his writing that somehow exactly matched Teddy’s image of him: frenetic, sarcastic, a little shy and fumbling to overcompensate. Wild and imperfectly made.

Unique.

_Wonderful._

Fuck, no, he needed to stop thinking like that. “Um, sure, something like that. I was just…” He made a vague gesture, paper fluttering like an origami butterfly between his fingers. “You know. Just trying to figure out what, um. I. Just. …did you read this?”

She let out a huffing laugh, leaning back. The slanting morning sun flashed gold against her labret “ _No_ , gosh, I wouldn’t do that,” Kelly protested, spreading her hands wide in an overly innocent show. When Teddy arched his brows, she dimpled and wiggled her fingers at him—jazz hands. “I’ll have you know I’m just not that kind of girl.”

Her gaze subtly ticked left.

Wary, Teddy began to turn in his seat, but before he could react, someone leaned over his shoulder and snatched the folded paper from his fingers. “ _I’m_ sure as shit that kind of girl, though,” Carey said—dancing away when Teddy tried to grab the note _back_. “Oooh, it’s gotta be good if it’s got Teddy in a tiff!”

“Come on!” Teddy protested, stumbling up after her, but Carey was already around the table, climbing up on the _next_ table over and sprinting almost delicately between half-empty bowls of oatmeal and grumbling cowhands. “Carey, seriously, come on.”

“ _Teddy_ ,” she read, jumping easily from one table to the next. Trev lifted his bowl with an aggrieved sigh but kept eating one mushy mouthful after the other, not missing a beat. “ _Missing something? Here’s a hint: it goes on—_ ”

“Carey!”

“ _—your head and rhymes with cat._ ”

Kelly laughed and swung around to watch as Teddy darted in after Carey—climbing up onto the table like some kind of idiot when she managed to evade him. His was quick, but Carey was quicker, lithe in a way he could never be. She swung around his grasping hands like a school of minnows, voice rising to be heard over the growing din.

“ _I’m holding it in protective custody for the foreseeable future,_ ” she cried, dropping to her knees and sliding under a table. She popped up on the other side, shit-eating grin huge. Teddy eyed the table, caught the sullen glare of the hands flanking it…and went around.

Carey continued. “ _I hear you haven’t been treating it well—tossing it around to random city,_ ” her words stumbled briefly before she caught herself, auto-correcting, “folk _with Wild West pretentions._ My, Teddy, don’t you got the manners of a skunk?” she added with a teasing smirk, looking up. She waited until he’d swung around the table and was nearly on her—nearly within range of snatching the note away before she got to the _really_ damning stuff—before spinning away and leaping over the next table with all the grace she routinely displayed in the ring.

There wasn’t a bullrider half as nimble as Carey Cane; this was a lost cause.

“Carey,” Teddy said, but he didn’t go after her again. What was the point? The whole room was already staring at him, watching the show with gradations of amusement and interest. Any kind of protest he tried to kick up would just be all the more damning. “Come on.”

“Yeah, Carey,” Kelly said with a laugh, elbows on her knees, hands clasped. Her dark eyes were dancing. “Come on!”

Carey stood tall in the center of one of the old mess tables, half-eaten bowls of soggy breakfast scattered about her scuffed old boots. Trev scraped his spoon along the edges of his bowl to collect the last dregs, and Len flapped his hand at the commotion as if shooing away horseflies.

“ _Meet me for coffee sometime, though, and maybe we can talk terms._ ” She held up a finger at Kelly’s delighted indrawn breath, circling it once. “ _PS: I’m so bringing sugar cubes next time._ ”

Kelly turned to look at him with a face so happy it almost hurt to see. Carey was grinning, too, hard edges softened by the light in her eyes. Even Len and Trev and some of the other men were starting to smirk, a few elbowing each other playfully as if…as if this were all just some kind of joke. As if it were all in good fun.

Teddy wondered how many would be smiling if they knew the note came from another _boy_.

(And no, fuck, he wasn’t going to let himself think like that; he wasn’t going to let himself be that way. These were good people, his friends, his family, and he just couldn’t go on minute to minute assuming they were all as narrow-minded as the man who ruled them.)

“Thanks, Carey,” Teddy said, forcing himself to play along. He crossed his arms and cocked his head, shooting for playfully put-upon. “You know I’m going to have to get you back for that.”

She spread her arms wide and gave an exaggerated bow before jumping lithely off the table. Her boot heels hit the linoleum with a satisfying _crack!_ “Aw, Teddy: you don’t got a mean bone in your body and we all know it.”

“Uh-uh. See this face?” He pointed. “This is the face of the oncoming storm; your retribution is nigh.”

Carey play-cooed, and Trev leaned out and pinched at one of Teddy’s cheeks—hard!—with tobacco-stained fingers. “Never figured the _oncoming storm_ to be such a cute kid,” he drawled, refusing to let go until Teddy huffed and slapped his hands away. Teddy rubbed at his cheek and retreated back to sit near Kelly, who was nearly bursting with happiness. “Sorta makes them Revelation plagues n’all not seem so bad, eh?”

“It’s not a _Bible_ quote,” Teddy protested. “It’s from _Doctor Who_.”

“Doctor What?”

“No, Doctor—” He stopped himself. This? Was an unwinnable battle. “Never mind.”

Kelly nudged his shoulder lightly and Carey moved to sit on his other side, slinging an arm around Teddy’s shoulders. “Cheer up, Teddy,” she said brightly, all grins. “It’s not every day you get an adorable little love letter.”

He snatched the paper from her fingers and carefully folded it back into a square. He could feel them meeting each other’s’ eyes knowingly over his head as he tucked the folded paper away somewhere safe, and Teddy began to flush in response. “It’s not a… It’s nothing,” he mumbled, eyes on the floor. “It’s probably nothing.”

Carey squeezed him tighter. “Trust me, Teds,” she said, voice pitching lower, thank God. “I know you were raised by a pack of wild cowfolk and didn’t get much in the way of traditional schooling, but _I_ clawed my way through middle school and high school, and I promise you—”

“ _Promise_ ,” Kelly interrupted, reaching out to squeeze his knee.

“—that this? This isn’t even trying to be subtle. I’ve spent many hours agonizing over notes passed by cute girls or boys in class, and I swear to God, this letter couldn’t be less subtle if it had little dicks drawn all over it.”

Teddy jerked away and Kelly sputtered, “Carey!” even as Carey reeled him back down into his seat. The two girls were laughing, and Teddy was pretty sure he wanted to _die_ , right then and there. Just let the earth fold back and swallow him down in one easy gulp.

He loved his weird little not-family, he really, really did…but there were days when he thought maybe it would have been easier if he and his mother had just stayed in that apartment in Brooklyn and hadn’t gone tumbling across the wide belly of the States. There had to be some advantages to being raised with actual peers and not… _this_.

“Aw, come on,” Kelly said, clearly reading some of that on his face. She leaned in and lightly rested her forehead against his temple, both arms going around Teddy’s shoulders. “Carey’s just being Carey. But she’s right, too, you know. That kid,” _Billy_ , “has got a shine to you. A real, honest-to-goodness _shine_. And if I know you half as well as I think I do…he’s not the only one feeling all fluttery.”

_Billy’s eyes wide and dark as he stared up at Teddy on his rearing horse. Billy’s ears gone as red as his hoodie as he dropped onto the grass next to him. The delicate curve of his jaw and the long arch of his neck as he tipped his face toward the stars. The way he fit so easy in the cradle of Teddy’s body as they rode Inigo back to the guesthouse. The shallow catch of his breath and the warmth of his hand in Teddy’s as they lifted toward the velvet-soft muzzle._

Teddy closed his eyes.

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Carey countered, jabbing his side. Kelly made a warning noise, but Carey just jabbed him again—a little gentler this time. “Boy meets boy. Boy likes boy. Boy asks boy out for coffee and dorky banter. It’s a tale as old as time, Teddy, and all you have to do is play your part.”

He rubbed at his side, frowning. “I’m already on probation for the _suggestion_ that I might be making time with a guest,” he protested.

“Then you may as well do the crime if you’re going to do the time,” she countered.

“I could be fired.”

“You could be _happy_.”

“I’m already happy.”

Kelly made a low noise at that, and even Carey’s expression went softer, a little sad. “Aw, you idiot,” she murmured, reaching up to push back the long sweep of his bangs. “If you’re gonna lie, at least make it a good one.”

Teddy let out a breath, feeling penned in and overwhelmed and… _prickly_ under his skin with something that was almost like hope. He couldn’t have imagined he’d feel anything like it—not after the dressing-down he’d received yesterday. Not after the horrible night he’d spent curled around his pillow, fighting not to relive every black mark he’d made of his life. He reached up as if to tug out the note, then hesitated, hand dropping again. His heart, he realized, was pounding off-rhythm, just a little too fast.

This… This was a really bad idea. And yet…

“You really think this means he, um, likes me?” Teddy asked, voice low.

Kelly and Carey met each other’s’ eyes over his head again; when they began to smile, it was slow and warm and cracked wide open. Happy for him and _loving_ in a way Teddy hadn’t experienced since his mother had died years ago; in a way he hadn’t looked to ever experience again.

“I am fluent in the language of flirtation,” Carey said, knocking their shoulders together before ruffling his hair, big sister style. “And I _promise_ you, this kid is flirting. I mean, given, he’s got absolutely zero game, but hey: we can grade on a curve.”

“You should write back,” Kelly added, digging into her pocket for a pen and a suspiciously handy bit of paper. Purple, because she was _Kelly_. “I’ll deliver it when I meet the Kaplans this morning.” When Teddy hesitated, she added, “This is _good_ , Teddy. I know you’re not familiar enough with good things to recognize one when it comes along, but I promise you—this kid isn’t going to hurt you the way, um, others may have. It’s going to be _great_.”

Carey slid off the bench and snagged Kelly’s sleeve, tugging her up as well. “Everyone deserves a summer fling,” she said. “Even you.”

“Especially you.”

“Especially _me_ too,” Carey added, knocking their hips together, not-so-subtly herding Kelly away to give Teddy some privacy to write. “ _Speaking_ of summer romances, have you…” And they were drifting off, leaving Teddy with a sparkly ink pen, a slip of purple stationary, and a stomach full of worry and excitement and anxiety and hope.

Most of all…most of all, hope. And wasn’t the fear of everything bad that could happen worth it, to feel that shy uncurling in his chest again? A summer fling. A couple of weeks stolen right from under the noses of Gael and his father and Tucker. A good memory to balance all that had gone wrong.

Maybe _that_ really was worth the risk. If he was careful. If he made sure it didn’t get out of hand. That…wasn’t so hard, was it?

Teddy wet his lips and turned to face the table, carefully spreading the stationary across the pitted wood. He took a deep breath and set his pen to its blank face. He thought about everything he wanted to say.

Then slowly, haltingly, he began to write.

**

**Billy—**

**You fiend. How dare you threaten the sanctity of the sacred cowboy hat? See if I look the other way the next time you go spinning like an off-key Maria VonTrapp down the mountainside.**

**(Blackmail standoff begins…now. Bring it, Kaplan.)**

**Teddy**

**PS: Careful. Inigo’s not the only one with a sweet tooth.**

**

“Oh my Gooooood,” Billy moaned, hands clutched over his chest as if to keep his heart from pounding right out the ribcage. That wasn’t possible, right? That couldn’t actually happen outside of old cartoons: anvils and Acme and blaring horns as the hero’s eyes and heart popped out in delight.

“UGH!”

He rolled over to bury his face in the warm grass, drumming his feet against the impossible coils of giddy joy and nerves. Teddy’s letter lay close by, pinned against the wind by a rock. It was purple and sparkly and Teddy had such great handwriting and had drawn a little offended-looking horse in the upper-right corner and, oh God, he was _not_ going to sniff it to see if it smelled like him; that was just _weird_.

Billy rolled over again, completing the circuit, and flopped back against the grass. He sighed up at the endless blue and pressed the palm of his left hand over his pounding heart. “You,” he said gravely, “have lost your _mind_.”

But...seriously, it’s not like anyone could blame him. He’d been practically crawling the walls all evening after giving Kelly that first letter, second-guessing every single word until he’d nearly convinced himself to, like, try sneaking into Teddy’s room ninja-style and taking it back. He obsessed over it, driving himself crazy with each stupid, dorky, inappropriate word until he’d started questioning whether he’d written some of them at all. Was he remembering it right? He’d been in such a _hurry_.

_Surely_ he hadn’t said anything about sugar cubes. Only an _idiot_ would think that was cute. But maybe he had, and maybe he was, and oh God, maybe Kelly was giving Teddy the note now and and and—

The night had been long and full of cringing embarrassment. He’d dreamed up a million and one ways to convince his parents he’d suddenly contracted a deathly allergy to horses; he’d almost started to stumble into the lie that morning over OJ. _Uh, so, I know I was pushing us all to go do the horses thing, but actually, I just realized—_

—and then Kelly had been rapping on the door and the day had started and there hadn’t been time to do anything but pull on his literal and figurative big boy pants and follow along for the day she had planned for them. He’d studiously avoided her eye the entire time, keeping Andy close as cover. It hadn’t been until the (okay, pretty incredible) picnic on an overlook jutting out across the far side of the Lonely Mountain that Kelly had managed to track him down. He’d snuck off after PB&J to find a large, grassy outcropping. Billy could hear a waterfall in the distance, far enough away that it was just a susurrus sigh, and wildflowers grew in a dizzy riot of colors all the way down the hill that sloped his ledge.

“Here,” she said, appearing out of nowhere, momentarily blocking the sun. Her grin was so wide all Billy saw was the dazzling impression of teeth. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.”

“Uh?” Billy answered (super-intelligently), but then she dropped something onto his lap, grinned, and sauntered away.

He rose up onto an elbow to watch her go, then glanced at the bit of paper in his lap. It was folded into careful creases, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand. A long neck. Little, stumpy arms. Powerful legs and a tail that stuck out in a long purple V.

A dinosaur?

Billy turned it over, and over again…which was when he spotted his name written along the arc of the dinosaur’s spine in what had to be _Teddy’s_ careful script. His heart had started racing then, and it hadn’t slowed since.

Now he sighed and covered his eyes with one outflung arm, reaching out with the other to brush his fingertips over the paper. He’d never be able to fold it back into shape, of course; once he’d started to tug the creases free, the whole thing had unraveled in his hands. But he could tuck the _memory_ of that little dinosaur away somewhere special—somewhere untouched by his normal New York world of schoolyard bullies and counting the seconds to freedom.

_Inigo’s not the only one with a sweet tooth_. What should he make of _that?_

“What’re you doing?” Andy called. Billy tipped his head, twisting in the grass to see. His younger brother had pushed through to his private outcropping. His hair was an unholy mess, brambles stuck in the dark curls, and he had berry juice smeared across his mouth. Kelly must have been showing them where some bushes were. “Oh hey, what’s that?”

He pointed with one grubby finger toward Teddy’s letter. Billy could actually _feel_ his brother beginning to tilt forward in what would be a rush to grab it (because whatever Billy had snuck off to read had to be good, right, if only for future mockery), and the tussle that would ensue, and _David’s_ inevitable crashing through the bushes, and voices raised and his mother stepping in to stop the brawl and maybe…maybe _read the letter_ …or, maybe, even worse, lose it to the gusting wind and all Billy would have was his desperately happy memory.

He felt all that in one moment. Then he shrugged. “This? It’s just some old poetry we had to write for class. I found it at the bottom of my bookbag this morning.”

Somehow he managed to snag Teddy’s letter between his fingers as if it meant nothing and reach up to offer it to Andy. “Wanna see? I only got a B+ because I couldn’t keep the rhythm of the iambic pentameter straight and—”

Andy snorted. “Laaaame,” he said. He cast the breathtaking panorama a bored look and turned back to go crashing through the brush, already calling for David and Kelly. Billy moved up onto his elbow, watching him disappear. The leaves shivered in his wake…and then went still.

He collapsed back with a groan, pressing the letter over his heart. That? Had been way too close.

“Sorry, Teddy,” he murmured, beginning to carefully fold the letter into a square. New creases, to go with the origami shapes he’d never be able to recreate. Maybe…maybe Teddy would be able to show him sometime. Maybe he’d actually want to.

Billy sat up, glancing over his shoulder one last time, just to make sure no one was there to see him. Then, giving in to impossible impulse, he lifted the purple stationary to his lips and gave it a flustered kiss.

The paper smelled like hay, and sunshine.

**

The little piece of paper had a turtle drawn on one side. Teddy probably wouldn’t have guessed that, except there was a speech bubble coming out of its mouth that said, “I AM A TURTLE.”

He looked up helplessly at Kelly, who just giggled and hurried away.

Teddy hadn’t even had time to really work himself up into a panic over how Billy would take his note. Kelly had returned from her hike with the Kaplans and had immediately tracked him down. He was glad he didn’t have to spend all the way into late evening wondering if he’d gone too far, but now he had Billy’s response, and his hands were shaking too hard for him to so much as unfold the first crease.

The little lopsided turtle danced and swaying at the unsteady tremor.

“You’re being an idiot,” Teddy told himself. He tried to make his voice sound firm, unaffected, but it quaked just as hard as Billy’s letter. No good. He couldn’t even give himself a talking-to, it seemed.

Teddy sighed and leaned back against the warm clapboard wall. He was just outside one of the hands’ cabins, watching the sun sink toward the horizon. It was too quiet out here with everyone else busy at work, but it was also too good a day to be inside by his bunk. Restlessness had kept him wandering about the nearby trails all day, but a sense of duty had kept him from going too far afield. He kept thinking that maybe if he stuck close, someone would spot him and ask him to pitch in. Or maybe Tucker would change his mind and he’d be put back into rotation. Or maybe, maybe, maybe—

It had been frustrating, cycling through the sloping trails around the ranch, cooling his heels on porches or in patches of sunshine for endless stretches of hours he _could_ have been putting to better use, but now he was _glad_ he _hadn’t_ gone for a day-long hike just to keep himself occupied. Haunting the outbuildings like a restless ghost meant he was here when Kelly came looking for him, and now he had Billy’s note between his fingers.

_I am a turtle_. His lips began to twitch into a smile.

Drawing up his knees, Teddy began to slowly unfold the letter. It was creased into crazy, erratic folds as if Billy had attempted origami and then given up in frustration midway through. There was something so incredibly _charming_ about that idea that he had to laugh a little, huffing breath making the edges of the paper dance. His fingers were still trembling a little, but he forced himself to ignore the flutter as he spread the unfolded letter across his knees, scanning the sloppy script he was already pretty sure he’d recognize anywhere.

**Teddy,**

**Your vile threats are _not_ one of my favorite things. (Did you see what I did just there?) **

**Fine. The hat lives to cowboy another day—this time. Come and get it whenever your head starts to get cold. ~~I’ll be waiting, sugar in hand~~.**

**Billy**

**PS: Um, unless you’d rather I just gave it to Kelly to give to you. I can do that too.**

Part of a sentence had been messily scribbled out. Teddy squinted at the jagged black lines as if he could somehow make the words magically resurface, but no matter how hard he tried to will them into clarity, they remained tauntingly inscrutable.

What else had Billy said? What had he regretted saying? What did all of this _mean_?

Teddy dropped his head forward and lightly thunked his forehead against his drawn-up knees. As much as he hated to admit it, Kelly and Carey had been right about one thing—being homeschooled by his mother and whatever random folk they met on the road had given him experiences far and away above what most kids his age could claim…but it also meant he was missing some of the crucial skills that came with being raised around peers. Like. _This_. He was so out of his depth with _this_.

Interpreting clues, unravelling meaning, getting the subtext right. If he’d spent a few years in school passing notes and making eyes, maybe he wouldn’t be seesawing over whether Billy was being flirty or just poking fun.

Things with Gael had been simple by comparison. Gael was direct, to the point. He saw something he wanted and he reached for it. There had been no dancing around each other, no second-guessing or trying to parse out whether they’d moved from banter to flirtation to… _whatever._

They’d been friends. They’d worked side-by-side for over a year, finishing up that awkward stage of growing together. And then, one day, out of the blue, Gael had just _looked_ at him with those dark, assessing eyes—and leaned in to press a kiss to Teddy’s gaping mouth. If he closed his eyes now, he could still recall the bits of sense memory from that first kiss: Dirty fingers brushing against his jaw. The smell of hay and muck from the stalls. The stamp of hooves. Gael’s breath hot against his mouth, his lips so incredibly soft, and the sudden _awareness_ zinging through Teddy’s body like a lit sparkler. _Oh_ , he’d thought, surprise melting into shivery pleasure. _Oh, oh, oh God okay._

The kiss hadn’t lasted long, and it had been nearly a week of anxious waiting before another had taken its place—and then another, and another, and another, as Gael pressed for what he wanted the way Teddy wasn’t sure _he’d_ ever be able to do. But despite never knowing the when or where or why of it all, Teddy had never been forced to try to blunder through on his own. Gael took what he wanted, and at that time, he wanted Teddy. Their romance hadn’t been so much a flirtation as a gradual capitulation. There was something so very effortless in that.

It had all been so _easy_ until it…wasn’t.

But this? This…thing…with Billy? This wasn’t easy. This wasn’t direct. This wasn’t something he had a road map for, and he was positive he was going to do or say the wrong thing, misinterpret where things stood the way he _always_ did, and mess everything up between them for good. 

He could fuck it all up and someone could get hurt again. The thought of that made his stomach tighten into a fist. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“Stop it,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes shut. “Stop it, stop it, stop it.” Teddy drew in a deep breath, another, _another_ , letting the cooling mountain air fill his lungs like a bellows. If he let himself start to think like that, it would all come crashing down around him. He would manage to talk himself out of wanting this.

God, maybe he _should_ talk himself out of wanting this. A summer romance hadn’t exactly ended in sunshine and rainbows for all last time. If he’d just kept himself in _check_ , his mother would still be here, Gael’s mother would still be here, people wouldn’t glance at him as he passed with pity lingering in their eyes and—

“Stop. It.” He balled up his fist and hit the ground hard. Bits of rock dug into his skin, and the warmth of the earth did its best to seep in against the sudden icy cold of his fingers. He straightened up, tipping his head back so he was staring at the rapidly purpling sky. The sun had dipped lower—God knew how long he’d been sitting here sorting through his fears and regrets like a miser his gold—and the far west was a blaze of color.

And in his lap, Billy’s note was staring up at him with its untidy scrawl and lopsided turtle and baffling scratched out sentence that may or may not have meant something. Teddy drew in a shuddery breath and passed his fingers across the messy scribble as if he could read those words like braille. _Tell me what you want_ , he almost said. _Tell me what to do._

And beneath that, in a whispering voice: _Coward. You know what to do._

Across the ranch, back toward the main lodge, the dinner bell began to toll. Its heavy iron clang echoed down toward the valley, heavy and booming and impossible to ignore. Teddy folded the letter and slowly climbed to his feet, moving to get a good view of the lodge. It was framed by the setting sun, huge windows casting off winking pink and golden light. Figures—guests—thronged the front lawn, mingling together like eddies leading into a wider stream as they headed in for the usual dinner followed by relaxing around an outdoor fire. If he could see through the lodge’s heavy wooden beams, he’d be able to spot some of the hands already prepping the big firepits.

He could go down there and help, Teddy figured. It wasn’t doing _work_ if he moved around a couple of big log seats, and hands were encouraged to hang around the pits from time to time, entertaining the guests. Billy would be there, and he could cut through the passed notes and…and say something, do something, try not to be a coward bound by past mistakes and just trust that he could fumble his way through this. Gael never bothered joining in the after-dinner entertainment, and if he was careful…

If he was careful, this didn’t have to blow up in his face.

_If_ it was worth the risk. And something inside—some slow uncurling, like joy—kept telling him that no matter how freaked out he was over the potential consequences…trying to see things through with Billy, trying to be like a normal kid with normal desires who was worthy of normal happiness… _was_ worth the risk.

Maybe. Probably.

“Yeah,” Teddy said, watching as the last of the guests moved through the lodge’s huge doors. “This isn’t going to go horribly wrong _at all._ ”

**

Billy was pretty sure he was losing his mind. Insanity by way of cowboy: he was going to be a new one for the the DSM-IV. He was so twitchy waiting to see how Teddy would respond to his (stupid; not at all funny or sexy or, uh, _whatever_ ) note that his mother had started casting him worried looks. Even his _brothers_ were starting to seem concerned.

Andy had voluntarily given him half a Butterfinger. If that wasn’t a sign of the end times, Billy didn’t know what was.

And now they were all piled into the lodge together for dinner, listening to chatter going on between other families at other tables, and still Kelly hadn’t come to find him. Had his note freaked Teddy out? Was he bored with the exchange, or weirded out? Had Billy gone too far? _Argh._

“Aren’t you going to eat your chili?” Mother asked, dabbing at her mouth with the cloth napkin. The Lonely Mountain sigil was embroidered in one corner, echoed in the pressed tin of the plates, the mugs…even the rustic-looking silverware. “Is it too spicy for you?”

“It’s not too spicy for me!” Andy piped up, shoveling another mouthful in demonstration. He grinned, showing off beef-and-bean-flecked teeth.

David elbowed him in the side. “You know you’re eating _beans_ , right? You know what beans make you do.”

Mother immediately switched tactics, moving from concern to censure with the ease of long practice. “David, not while we’re at the table—”

But it was too late; Andy was already lighting up. “They make you _fart!_ ” he hooted.

“—Andy, this isn’t the place for—”

As one, both of his little brothers lifted their arms to their mouths and started making deep, elaborate farting noises. They echoed around the Kaplan’s table, wet and spluttery and—ugh—seriously, seriously disgusting. Billy dropped his spoon into the bowl and shoved with away with a low groan; if he _had_ been hungry, the sputtery _pfffffffft_ drifting merrily around them would have been enough to put him off. “You’re so gross,” he muttered.

“ _Boys_ ,” Mother protested, _laughing_. Because apparently she still hadn’t learned how not to encourage them.

Andy grinned against his forearm, blowing another elaborate farting noise against his skin. “I’m going to fart my way to the _moon_ ,” he said. “Like The Rocketeer!”

“We’re going to be fartronauts!”

“May I be excused?” Billy asked. He could feel scores of eyes on him as people turned in their long bench chairs to stare. Or maybe it just _felt_ like everyone was staring; either way, he wanted to get out of here and back out into the cool, fresh air sweeping down from the mountaintop. He wanted to be under the broad expanse of sky, to feel tiny compared to the huge stretch of darkness. He wanted to hear the pops and cracks of wood shifting in the fire…and be alone enough that Kelly could track him down any time she pleased to slip him Teddy’s note.

If Teddy wrote back.

If Teddy hadn’t decided he was done doing…whatever it was they were doing.

If if if.

Mother— _and_ Father—were too busy badly hiding laughter as their youngest sons started making an orchestra of wet noises to pay Billy much attention. “Hm? Oh. Well, yes, of course, if you’re sure you’re not hungry.”

Billy quickly slid off the bench before she could refocus her worried, assessing gaze on him. “Yeah, thanks!” he said, tossing his napkin half over the plate of cornbread to hide exactly how little he’d eaten. His stomach was tied into too many knots for hunger; he was jittering out of his skin. He spun on his sneakered heel and hurried away, weaving through the long wooden tables that made up the lodge’s main dining room. High above, dangling from the shadows of the peaked ceiling, the wagon wheel chandeliers swayed with the breeze. The back barn-style door had been left open, and as Billy drew closer, he could smell wood smoke and marshmallows and something he couldn’t quite place. Something that was just _The Outdoors_ to him, in all caps: huge and mysterious and beautiful and utterly foreign.

A wind blew as he stepped out onto the flagstone porch at the back of the lodge, and Billy lifted his hand to shield his face against a flurry of sparks. They rose from the nearest fire, dancing up toward the sky like newly born stars; for a moment, they stood in sharp relief against the night.

“Sorry about that,” a familiar voice drawled, and Billy jerked his arm down, cheeks suddenly hotter than even the fire could explain.

Sitting on the other end of the nearest fire, slouched comfortably against a smooth log with— _oh my God_ —a beaten-up guitar laying across his knees was _Teddy_. He looked… Well, Billy had to admit that he pretty much always thought Teddy looked gorgeous, but he looked particularly good tonight. His hair was ruffled by the wind, long ends catching hints of gold from the fire. His face was lit as if by a spotlight, and he’d unbuttoned his plaid shirt a few more than usual, white undershirt visible underneath. A dimple flashed dark against his skin, and his lashes formed black fans as he dropped his gaze, almost shy.

No, definitely shy.

_Bashful_ , oh God.

“Um!” Billy said before forcing himself into motion. He stumbled around the firepit to join Teddy, awkwardly sinking down next to him before he could start to second-guess himself. “Hey. I, uh, didn’t think you’d be out here tonight.”

“I thought I’d come see how the other half lives,” Teddy teased. He drew his fingers lightly over the guitar’s strings, almost as an afterthought.

It wasn’t a tune that Billy recognized—he wasn’t even sure if it was a real song at all. It didn’t matter; he loved the sound of it anyway. He loved—this was—it was just all so _overwhelming_ how much he liked this guy. “Yeah? Verdict so far?” He twisted around, drawing up one knee so he could face Teddy. The tune subtly changed, went softer.

“Give me ‘til the end of the evening and I’ll let you know,” Teddy murmured. Then, “Hey, um, I got your note.”

He was _not_ going to duck his head in embarrassment. He was really, really _not_. “Oh? Well. Yeah. That’s the Kelly Express for you, I guess.”

Teddy grinned. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night…”

“She used that on you _too_?”

“Well, you know what they say,” Teddy said with a laugh. “If it’s funny the first time…”

“Why change good material, yeah yeah.” Billy dragged his sneakered feet close, wrapping his arms around his shins. “There are comics in New York who live and die by that creed.”

Teddy half-turned toward him, absently strumming the guitar like a nervous tic, like he needed to keep his hands busy. But that was, of course, ridiculous wishful thinking. “So, New York,” he began.

Billy jerked up a hand, palm-out. “Wait,” he said quickly. “This isn’t about to become a salsa commercial, is it?”

“…um?” Teddy said.

“You know…” He dropped his voice, aping a deep Texas drawl. “ _New York City!_ ” Teddy’s lips curled at the corners, the hint of a dimple nearly derailing Billy’s brain for a moment. “That salsa commercial? You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Billy sighed and lightly knocked his shoulder against Teddy’s, thrilling down to his toes at the touch. “How did you escape? I swear, it used to be as ubiquitous as that Geico gecko.”

Teddy just laughed. “Sorry to disappoint, _city boy,_ ” he drawled, nothing but humor in his tone, “but my tv watching has always been spotty at best. Mom would have one of the hands wherever we were staying at the time record the shows I claimed I couldn’t live without—”

“Pokémon,” Billy interrupted.

“Pokémon,” Teddy agreed. “But she made a point of being there to fast-forward past all the commercials. She didn’t want corporate America selling me on consumerism or…something.” He shrugged. “Honestly, when I was that age, I pretty much tuned her out whenever she started talking about all that suff. I was more interested in whether Skeletor was finally going to succeed in his plot to rule Eternia.”

“Huh.” He cocked his head, considering. “What about when you went over to your friends’ houses?”

Teddy changed up the tune. His fingers flew over the strings, strong and deft. He barely seemed to be paying attention to the guitar, but a melody was forming anyway, low and sweet and clear. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid,” Teddy explained, shaping the music to his words as if he were some kind of Old West bard. “If there were kids around—which there often weren’t—we didn’t really stick around long enough to become fast friends.”

Billy frowned, struck by how sad that seemed. He couldn’t imagine a life without his own few, loyal friends back in New York. Some days it felt like they were the only thing keeping him upright as the daily grind of high school—bullies, expectations, that ever-oppressive sense of not quite belonging—tried to flatten him. “Oh,” he said.

“It wasn’t all _that_ bad,” Teddy added. He must have read something on Billy’s face because his lips were twisting into the wry sort of smile. “I got to see and do a lot of things kids my age didn’t. Mom tried real hard to make sure I was always _happy_ , and I was. Besides, it got to be that moving around so much, just her and me, really did feel like an adventure. Sometimes I’d be the one coaxing her to pull up stakes and move on.”

“Did you ever come to New York?” Billy wondered, trying to picture the life Teddy was describing. “Or were you guys mostly, you know—cowboy-y?”

Teddy laughed and switched from that unfamiliar melody to a bright, teasing Home on the Range. “Nah, we never went too far East. We wandered up into Northwest a few times, and up into Canada and down into Mexico when we could, but Mom was always drawn back to places like this. I was born in New York, though,” he added.

Billy startled. “What? No way!”

“In Brooklyn. We left before I could form any memories of it, but Mom used to always tell stories about the little one-bedroom we shared in Bay Ridge. It was a walk-up on the fourth floor with vines covering most of the windows. She always said they made it dark in winter with all the collecting snow, but during spring and summer, the light would shine through the wide hearts of those leaves and fill the apartment with a feeling of _green_.”

“That sounds,” Billy began, picturing it. Picturing Teddy and the mother he seemed to love to talk about in a room with the city noises outside and a soft glow of growing things within. _Beautiful._ “But it’s almost too bad you moved. Hey, maybe in some alternate universe, we would have known each other.”

The melody shifted again, went quiet and strangely…intimate. Teddy tipped his chin, looking at Billy through his lashes. There was a _weight_ to his look, as undeniable as a touch. A caress. Teddy’s eyes dropped briefly, then back up. “We know each other now,” Teddy murmured.

He flushed _hard_ , shoulders instinctively hunching forward at the husky words. Something in Teddy’s voice made his stomach clench in pleasure, and he felt—

He didn’t know how he felt. He felt too _much_. He was all at once too big for his skin, shivering and anxious and excited and scared. He, Billy Kaplan, hopeless loser, was sitting by a fire beneath an impossible canopy of stars with the hottest…sweetest…best cowboy, best _anything,_ he’d ever met, maybe-kinda-sorta flirting with him.

Looking at him like maybe he thought Billy was something special too.

God, how had this even _happened_? What kind of cosmic lottery had he won to bring him this far? And…could he _really_ hope that it might go farther?

“Billy?” Teddy said, fingers going still on the strings.

Billy wanted to answer—to make himself speak—but his lungs wouldn’t fill and his heart was pounding way too fast. He shifted, shivering when their thighs brushed…and it had to be his imagination that _Teddy_ shivered too, right?

“Um,” he finally managed, swallowing down all the breathless, flustered nonsense bubbling up inside him. _I like you; I really really like you_. Or, _Sometimes I think I’ll die if I don’t get to see you again_. Or, _hi, my face really wants to be making out with your face right now._

Yeah, none of that would go over so well, he figured.

“Um. Okay.”

**

_Um. Okay._

Well, if that wasn’t the most baffling mixed signal Teddy had ever experienced, he’d eat his hat.

The one Billy was still holding hostage.

He ducked his head, refocusing on the guitar as if it were the only thing in the world. He long bangs fell into his face, obscuring his eyes. What was he supposed to say _now_? He’d tried his best shot, flirting just as hard as he knew how, testing the waters to see if Billy responded. And at first, he’d really seemed to. The flushed cheeks (from the fire? Hell, he hadn’t considered that), the nervous shifting (sat on a rock? …possibly), the _banter_ ( _he’s just a funny guy, Jesus, Teddy, come on_ ), all made him think he was on the right path. But the moment he met Billy’s eyes and reached out with something a little more…forward…Billy clammed up and practically jolted right out of his skin.

So. There was that, he supposed.

_Run away_ , a small part of him whispered. He clenched his hand around the neck of the guitar. _Get out of here before you fuck everything up._

“Hey, so,” Teddy began, just as Billy cleared his throat and said, “I just—”

They both stopped and looked at each other awkwardly. The tension was palpable. “You first,” Teddy said…at the same moment Billy said, “Sorry, what?”

They stopped again. Paused for a few excruciating seconds.

…and both opened their mouths to break the silence at the exact same time.

“Oh my God, _stop_ ,” Billy laughed, tumbling close to clasp his hands over Teddy’s mouth. This close, Teddy could feel the heat cast from his body, could smell the strange, spicy scent of his shampoo.

He arched his brows, smiling against Billy’s palm. Billy just grinned back, big and crooked and a little manic.

“Just stopping us before things get out of hand,” he said. “I’m pretty sure we’d _no you; no please you_ each other until the cows come home.” He paused and cocked his head. “Cows come home. Is that an expression actual cowboys use?”

Teddy waited several beats in pointed silence. Then, when Billy still didn’t drop his hands, he reached up to gently circle those thin, almost delicate-seeming wrists. Strange, the flutter that went through him when he could easily span Billy’s wrists with space to spare. He started to tug Billy’s hands down—to say _I can’t talk with you covering my mouth, you know_ —when suddenly a shadow fell over them as someone stepped between where they were tangled together and the fire.

A very tall, imposing, terrifying someone. “Billy,” Mrs. Kaplan said in her cultured, clipped, wealthy Manhattanite accent, “why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

The two of them sprang apart as if they’d been electrocuted. Teddy scrambled to his feet, grabbing the neck of the guitar just in time to keep it from smashing to the ground. He felt as if he were flushed bright red—incriminatingly so. God, he hoped the flickering firelight hid some of that.

“Mrs. Kaplan,” he said. At his side, Billy was standing, looking just as guilty as Teddy felt. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.” He reached out to shake her hand, grip politely firm; he refused to let himself drop his eyes. “I’m Teddy—I help Kelly in the stables.”

Her brows shot up, and she cast Billy a glance as if some mystery had finally been solved. “Oh, I see. Do you work with many horses, then?”

Teddy refused to let himself glance at Billy for explanation…or assistance. “Yes ma’am—I’m in the stables most days.” Well, it was true when he wasn’t being pulled off work because of Gael’s finely tuned sense of spite. “I give riding lessons, mostly for the kids and teens.”

“I see,” Mrs. Kaplan said, as if she really did. “You know, Billy’s developed a recent strong interest in horses.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Billy hissed. Teddy still didn’t look, but he couldn’t help but be ultra-aware of Billy tense and vibrating beside him.

Mrs. Kaplan shot a too-innocent look toward her son. “I’m sure Teddy appreciates knowing when a guest has interest in the equestrian sports,” she said. Then she added to Teddy, “We’d initially thought we should avoid the stables for most of the trip—my sons Andy and David are prone to high levels of energy that don’t always mix well with wildlife—but I’m thinking maybe we should make an exception. You’re in the stables most mornings, you said?”

Billy was muttering something quietly to himself—Teddy couldn’t catch any of the words, even if he were to strain. Mrs. Kaplan’s steady gaze was friendly enough but _intense_ , as if she could see right through to the core of him. _I know what you want_ , the look seemed to be saying, _and I’m still deciding how I feel about it._ “Yes ma’am. I usually head in around six to see to the horses.”

“And trail rides begin at eight,” she mused aloud. “With lessons at ten?”

Teddy nodded mutely.

“It’s decided, then,” she said, relaxing into a warm smile. “I’ll let Kelly know there’s been a change in plan. I think all of us could benefit from a nice, easy ride along the trails.” She shot a glance at her son, brows briefly quirking before she returned her attention to Teddy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Teddy. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, feeling a little dazed. He couldn’t escape the impression that Mrs. Kaplan had jumped to all sorts of conclusions in just a few minutes—and had come to a peace with whatever she had decided. Like it was somehow just as easy as that.

“Good! Billy,” she added even as she stepped away, “don’t stay out too late tonight. We have an early start tomorrow.”

Billy muttered something under his breath that could have been a _yes ma’am_ ; apparently that was enough. Mrs. Kaplan gave the two of them a final smile and headed off to the larger bonfire, where her husband was wrangling the two younger boys.

Teddy watched her go for a moment, then turned his attention back to Billy. The moment she was out of range, Billy deflated with a long sigh, cupped palms covering his face. The patches of skin Teddy could see beneath his splayed fingers were bright pink.

“So,” Teddy began. “That was your mother.”

“That was my mother,” he muttered, voice muffled. “Oh my God, she thinks—”

Billy dropped his hands in a flash and shot Teddy a quick, embarrassed look. “Um, never mind what she thinks, it’s just—argh. _Mothers_.”

“Mothers,” Teddy echoed, just a little wistfully.

“Can we get out of here? Can we just…go?” Billy glanced toward the main bonfire.

The fires were usually kept lit well into the night, though most families retired and left them to the couples by around nine or ten. There were still probably a few hours before the Kaplans returned to their cabin. “Will you be missed?”

Billy shook his head. “Nah. I mean, not as long as I get back to the cabin at a reasonable hour. I’m old enough to watch out for myself.”

“Yeah.” Teddy stooped and carefully lay the guitar propped against the log, away from the fire. Several of the hands knew how to play basic tunes—someone would pick it up and make use of it. “Okay, let’s go.”

Billy was already taking off at a quick clip, _away _from his family. Teddy jogged to catch up. “Your mom seems pretty cool,” he said as they fell into step together.__

__Billy just snorted. “Yeah, well, you should try living with her. She’s a psychologist, so no matter what, you always get the feeling like she’s reading too much into everything—into _you_. And she’s got this scary memory and a _thing_ for schedules that borders on unhealthy.”_ _

__“She seemed to have the stable schedule memorized.”_ _

__Oh, she definitely has the stable schedule memorized.”_ _

__“Yeah, but _why_ does she have the stable schedule memorized?” There was something there—Teddy would have to be an idiot not to see it. Billy’s red ears were a weathervane._ _

__“Um, didn’t you hear her?” Billy asked. He shoved his hands into his pockets, legs eating up the distance in long strides. Teddy couldn’t let go of the impression that Billy would run if he could—throw himself face-first into the wind and sprint away from awkward family vacation and mothers who saw—and said—too much, and boys he…_ _

__What? Boys he _what_?_ _

__“I’d rather hear it from you,” Teddy said quietly. His heart was racing in his chest as if they _had_ been running._ _

__Billy let out a low gust of air. “I have a real thing for horses,” he said._ _

__That wasn’t what Teddy had been hoping for. “Oh?”_ _

__“Yeah.” Billy was finally slowing. They were far enough away from the lodge that the firepits were no more than dancing lights in the distance. The sound of voices and other ambient noise had died and all around them was the soft, blanketing _still_ of a Montana night. Billy tipped his face up, drawing in a heavy breath and letting it out slowly._ _

__Moonlight kissed his skin, highlighting the whorls of color slowly disappearing like a paintbrush swirled through water, the pigments lifting from stuff bristles and drifting away._ _

__Beautiful._ _

__“I never really met any in New York,” Billy was saying, a little wistfully. “Horses, I mean. I never— And then I get here, and they’re right there and I really wish I could just…”_ _

__“Ride them?” Teddy suggested when Billy trailed off._ _

__“Yeah,” he sighed. Then suddenly his head snapped toward Teddy, eyes comically wide—just as he stumbled over an uneven bit of ground._ _

__Teddy grabbed Billy’s arm before he could pitch head-first into the pasture, hauling him up (and against him) with a laugh. “Careful there, city boy,” he teased, hyperaware of Billy tucked briefly against his side, all coiled tension and frenetic energy. “These sidewalks take both eyes.”_ _

__“Oh my God,” Billy groaned on his laugh, dropping his head against Teddy’s chest. It felt surprising sweet. “Billy Kaplan, always here to be as mortifyingly awkward as possible.”_ _

__This, Teddy thought, could be his moment._ _

__How did they do it in the movies, books? How did one person just slide his arms around the other as if it was the most natural thing in the world? How did he _know_ it would be welcome? “It isn’t so bad,” Teddy murmured, wishing he knew the answer. “It’s just me here, and I’m not judging.”_ _

__“Yeah,” Billy sighed—then, much to Teddy’s chagrin, he straightened, pulling away. “Now let’s see if I can make it all the way to the cabin without tripping over myself. I want to get you your hat.”_ _

___Shoulda tried when you had a chance_ , Teddy told himself, watching as Billy set off again. The other boy was in constant motion—Teddy should have known his moment would come and go far too quickly. He dragged his fingers through his hair and jogged a few steps to catch up, letting their shoulders brush when he came abreast. “So we’re talking to full release here?” he said, flowing with the change of subject. “Not just a conjugal visit?”_ _

__Billy shot him a teasing look. “Hey, whatever a cowboy does with his hat in the privacy of his own home isn’t any of my business.”_ _

__“Pervert—” Teddy began._ _

__“ _You’re_ the one who started it, Mr. Conjugal!”_ _

__“—my _mother_ gave me that hat!”_ _

__Billy flashed a crooked grin. “Then you should probably stop making so many cracks at its expense.”_ _

__“I hate you,” Teddy said, meaning anything but. He let their shoulders bump more firmly together, suddenly so _happy_ he couldn’t bite back the ridiculous grin. Billy tilted his chin to look up at him, grinning back—beautiful and sharp and funny and everything Teddy ever wanted._ _

__The moonlight was casting down around them, painting each blade of grass silvery-white. The sky was so huge it felt like arms wrapping around them, swallowing them whole. The air smelled sweet and the wind brushed dark hair across a pale brow as Billy ducked his head shyly, the delicate stain of his blush sweeping across his sharp-featured, mobile, beautiful face._ _

__God, Teddy wanted to kiss him._ _

__He wanted to be the kind of guy who knew how. Who knew what to do, what to say. Who could just…reach out and snag Billy’s hand, stopping him. Pulling him close. Tipping his head back with a brush of his knuckles and meeting dark eyes before slowly—slowly—leaning in to taste the tiny shiver of breath seconds before their mouths finally brushed._ _

__Before they melted together in the darkness._ _

___Do it_ , he told himself, watching Billy out of the corner of his eyes. His cabin was a growing shape in the darkness, closer and closer with each minute that passed. _Just do it. Just…kiss him.__ _

__He even half-turned as if to do it, lips parting to say… _something_. Anything. But Billy kept moving, either missing or ignoring the movement, and Teddy swallowed down a frustrated breath, watching him go. God, why did he have to make it so hard? Why did he have to falter and second-guess everything?_ _

___Coward. Coward. Coward._ _ _

__Billy turned, obviously realizing Teddy wasn’t at his side, and walked backwards a few steps. “Something wrong?” he asked._ _

___Yes_. “Nah,” Teddy said, forcing himself to smile. It didn’t matter anyway—the moment had been broken. Maybe it hadn’t existed in the first place. It wouldn’t be the first time he was dangerously wrong about something. “Everything’s fine.”_ _

__He jogged to catch up, keeping that smile in place as he fell back in step with the other boy. This time, he was careful not to let their shoulders brush. “C’mon,” Teddy added. “Let’s double-time it. I’ve got a hat to rescue. And _tomorrow_ you’ve got the thrilling experience of Kelly and me matching you guys to your horses.”_ _

__Billy watched him for a beat too long, brows knit, but he forced his own smile when Teddy looked at him. The air was heavy with everything not being said. “Sure,” Billy murmured. “Um. Yeehaw?”_ _

__“ _That’s_ the spirit.”_ _

__**_ _

__Kelly, to the surprise of absolutely no one, took the whole horse-matching thing incredibly seriously._ _

__“Yes,” she said as she led them across the yard to the stable, “but would you consider yourself more of a thinker or a doer?”_ _

__Billy’s parents shared bemused looks. She had already quizzed them on levels of introversion, whether they preferred change or constancy, how they dealt with challenges… It was hard not to ruin his mother’s fun and admit that all five of them had taken so many personality tests over the years that they could game the system without a second thought._ _

__“But I took the Meyers-Briggs _last week_ ,” Andy whined, only to be shushed by their father. Their mother shot Kelly a wide, toothy grin._ _

__Billy just snorted and shoved his hands into his pockets, trailing the group by a few steps. He glanced around as the stable loomed up ahead of them, but Teddy was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was inside, waiting for them? God, he hoped so. He’d spent the entire night laying awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling as he tried to puzzle out exactly what had gone wrong. Teddy had been so sweet at the bonfire, so funny and relaxed. He’d even been okay after Billy’s mom had stepped in and did her best to ruin Billy’s life. But something had changed on the walk to the cabin—something had closed off, as if he had gently shut a door in Billy’s face. It was baffling and painful and frustrating and…_ _

__And _odd_. It seemed so unlike the other boy. It was almost as if he’d started pulling on armor, walling himself up to protect himself, but, God. Why would he think he’d need to protect himself from _Billy_?_ _

__Maybe more to the point: what had happened to him that made him flinch away like that in the first place?_ _

__“Okay, yeah, so, would you say you were unbiased even when…” Kelly continued blithely, leading them through the huge double doors. The stable was dim, slats of light painting everything in hazy, romantic strips of gold. The air smelled of hay and oats and pine. Horses nickered as they passed down the main aisle, a few ambling over to swing their heads over the low-slung gates._ _

__Billy tipped his face up, squinting toward the high, lofted ceiling. He could see movement up there, bits of hay occasionally drifting down to the stalls below. Wooden floorboards creaked, unscoring Kelly’s well-intentioned interrogation._ _

__“The _real_ question,” Teddy’s distractingly _gorgeous_ voice interrupted from somewhere just ahead, “is actually pretty simple: Batman or Superman, and why?”_ _

__Billy stumbled over his laces, flushing and catching himself against a stall door. The horse—completely white, with a coral pink muzzle and what could only be called a _bitch please_ expression—whickered and tossed its head in protest._ _

__“Sorry,” Billy mumbled, straightening, _flushing_ and trying not to grin like an idiot. He could actually feel himself lighting up in Teddy’s presence the way he always did, heart skipping just a little too fast, lungs going tight. Teddy was standing just a few feet away, arm looped through what looked like worn leather straps (leading reins, his sluggish brain supplied after a stuttering false start), hat tipped back to reveal—_ _

__Just—_ _

__Billy let out a slow, uneven breath. It was stupid, the way he reacted to the sight of Teddy each time as if it were the first—shocked anew by just how perfect he was. Teddy was the kind of gorgeous usually reserved for the trashy teen shows Billy refused to admit to watching: golden-tanned and blue-eyed with a wide smile and a pair of utterly devastating dimples. He glanced up as if he could feel Billy’s eyes on him, and that grin flashed wider in question._ _

__Billy began to grin back; he couldn’t help himself even if he wanted to._ _

__“Come on, then,” Teddy said. “Batman or Superman, and why?”_ _

__Andy rolled his eyes. “You sound like _Billy_. They’re both stupid—neither.”_ _

__Teddy immediately pointed to a small brown horse. Pony? “Congratulations, that’s your horse. How about you? Batman or Superman, and why?”_ _

__David shot Andy a smug look. “ _Batman_ , because he can kick your butt without any stupid powers.”_ _

__“Fair enough. You’re stall six.”_ _

__“I’ve got Rebecca and Jeff,” Kelly added with a wry grin, leading Billy’s parents away. “You got this under control?”_ _

__“Sure,” Teddy said; he was looking at Billy again. Billy swallowed against the uncomfortable feeling of happiness and attraction swirling together low in his belly. Teddy had a casual grace to him that made him look completely natural in this wild setting. At home in his own skin. Billy couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way, but God, it looked good on the other boy._ _

__“How about you?” Teddy said, cocking his head. David was already trotting off to find stall six, and Billy fell in step beside Teddy, weirdly thrilled to be back here in Teddy’s domain. He seemed different this morning—more relaxed, more confident. Being around the horses seemed to bring that out of him. “What’s your answer? Batman or Superman?”_ _

__“Neither,” Billy said. He glanced toward his parents to make sure his eagle-eyed mother wasn’t watching, then lightly bumped their shoulders together. When Teddy just as lightly jostled him back, his heart practically tripped over itself in response. “I mean, they’re both awesome but…Captain America all the way, you know? No contest.”_ _

__The slow, pleased grin that spread over Teddy’s face practically made his toes curl. “Good pick. Solid choice. But here’s the really important question: why’d you choose him?”_ _

__“That’s the _really important_ question?” Billy teased._ _

__Teddy just snorted and waved him off. “Don’t sass me this early in the morning, Kaplan. And don’t dodge, either—we take horse-matching very seriously at the Lonely Mountain, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to hear your answer before I can approve you to ride any of my horses. So.” He tipped his hat, dimple flashing at the corner of his mouth, and pinned Billy with a blue-eyed stare. “What’s your thinking?”_ _

__Billy shrugged a shoulder. God, he wanted to kiss him. It was a little scary just how much. “I dunno. I mean, Batman’s a bit too dark for me, and Superman’s great and all, but Cap’s… Cap’s just this kid from Brooklyn. He wants to do everything he can, for everyone he can. He’s good, inside and out, and he cares about everyone but doesn’t take enough care with himself. Even when the world tries to knock him down, he’ll always get up…and he won’t let it break what he’s got inside.”_ _

__Not that he’d given it a lot of thought or anything. And not that he had started to think of _Teddy_ that way. No, nothing as creepy as _that_._ _

__Teddy had stopped by a stall, but he wasn’t paying attention to the horse nudging his shoulder with a velvety muzzle—his eyes were locked on Billy’s face, scanning it as if reading, God, everything. Billy wet his lips, wondering if he should try to backpedal, but…no. No, screw it. Creepy or not, weird or not, it was the truth._ _

__“You’ve put a lot of thought into Captain America,” Teddy said quietly._ _

__Daring much—daring everything—Billy reached out. It was such a small gesture, but it felt monumental, time slowing to a desperate crawl as he very, very delicately brushed their fingertips together. He could feel the jolt of contact, and the way Teddy’s hand jerked—and didn’t pull away. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Billy agreed, just as quietly._ _

__“This?” Teddy glanced down, then quickly dragged his gaze back up, as if afraid of… Billy had no idea what he was afraid of. He wished he knew, so he could defeat it for him. It killed him to think of Teddy ever having a moment of fear. “Cap? Or, um.”_ _

__His fingers twitched, calloused fingertips lightly brushing over Billy’s knuckles. Billy’s heart was thundering in his chest and his breath was coming far too fast. He swayed toward Teddy as if drawn by the heat of his body. _Kiss me kiss me kiss me_. “Yeah,” Billy said, not quite an answer. He thought his heart might explode when Teddy stepped in, their chests just an inch away. The moment stretched, heavy and full of tension._ _

__And Teddy’s eyes dropped to Billy’s mouth._ _

___Oh_ , Billy thought with a silent gasp, lips parting. _Oh, oh, please. Please_. Teddy began to lean forward._ _

__And then like the blare of a bullhorn: “Hey Billy!” Andy called from farther down the stable. Billy jolted back and Teddy turned away, gripping the edge of the stall. His knuckles immediately bled white. “My horse is _awesome._ I bet he’s way cooler than yours!”_ _

__“God I hate him,” Billy muttered. He looked at Teddy, fighting the urge to reach up and press his fingertips to his spine. Had they been about to kiss? Did this mean it wasn’t going to happen? “Sorry,” he said._ _

__Teddy just gave a jerky nod, and yeah, okay, fuck that. Billy reached out and touched the curve of his spine, thrilling at the warmth of him; Teddy stiffened beneath his fingertips, then suddenly relaxed into the touch. He glanced over his shoulder, cowboy hat all but shielding his face, lashes dipping._ _

__“You okay?” Billy said as quietly as he could._ _

__“Yeah,” he said. He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh and turned. His expression was wry but no longer at all closed off. If anything, Billy could read more there than he ever had before, seeing shades of warmth and affection and…hope? “Yeah, I’m good. C’mon. I think I know the perfect horse for you.”_ _

__**_ _

__“My horse’s name is _Buttercup_?”_ _

__“What’s wrong with Buttercup?” Teddy grinned, dimples flashing briefly. He had the most stupidly pretty dimples Billy had ever seen. “I think Buttercup’s a great name.”_ _

__Billy studied him thoughtfully. “You’ve never had two younger brothers, have you?”_ _

__“Well, not that I’ve noticed.”_ _

__“Then _you have no idea_.” Some distance away, David was trying to stare down his own horse, a gorgeous gray with speckled white and black on its withers. “What’s his name?”_ _

__Teddy glanced over, one hand braced against the corded muscles of Buttercup’s neck. Billy took the moment to watch the way Teddy’s own muscles shifted and bunched beneath his white cotton Henley. He’d stripped out of his checked shirt to his undershirt as he showed the boys how to muck a stall, brush down a horse, and get it saddled and ready. Sweat had darkened the hair at his temples gold and his muscles were…just…really, really unfair. God, he was so gorgeous; Billy’s stomach twisted in a series of anxious somersaults at the sight of his biceps, at the elegant arch of his neck. Heat buzzed through his blood, mortifying tendrils of arousal prickling across his skin._ _

__Thank God, no one seemed to notice._ _

__“What, your brother’s horse?” Teddy looked back with a quick grin and Billy fought to keep his expression blank. “That’s Dread Pirate Roberts.”_ _

__“Wait a minute,” he protested. Buttercup butted her nose against his chest, nearly knocking Billy a step back. He touched a hand to her velvety-soft muzzle, rubbing up to her forelock. “Kelly asked you to match us to our horses.”_ _

__“Yup.”_ _

__“And you gave my _little brother_ Dread Pirate Roberts.”_ _

__“Yup.”_ _

__“And you gave _me_ Buttercup?”_ _

__Those dimples flashed again, making Billy’s stomach twist in reflexive pleasure. The air was buzzing between them, tension lingering from that strange, wonderful moment in the stables. “ _Yup_ ,” Teddy said, lifting a hand to stroke up the horse’s muzzle, fingers inches away from Billy’s._ _

__Then Teddy’s hand slid over a quarter-inch until their pinkie fingers brushed; neither of them looked at the other._ _

__“All right, kids!” Kelly called. She was already mounted, million-watt smile dazzling. “Who’s ready to ride?”_ _

__“That’s our cue,” Teddy said in a faintly husky voice, stepping back. “Here, I’ll give you a hand up.” He cleared his throat then crouched, cupping his hands together; a long fall of blond hair covered one eye and sunlight caught on his row of earrings._ _

__Billy hesitated—it didn’t feel right somehow to slide his muddy sneaker into Teddy’s cupped hand, to let the other boy hoist him up—but he inched forward when Teddy looked up with an expectant expression._ _

___Stop making everything a bigger deal than it has to be_ , he reminded himself fiercely, grabbing hold of the saddlehorn and sliding a foot into the cradle of Teddy’s palms. Billy swung a leg as Teddy hoisted him up, other arm pinwheeling briefly before he managed to snag hold of the reins. He slid forward awkwardly, half sprawled over Buttercup before he could push himself into a more dignified seat._ _

__Teddy helpfully snagged one of his feet and slid it into the stirrup._ _

__“Thanks,” Billy said. Then, “I mean it. I was just joking about the whole Buttercup thing. I mean, my brothers aren’t going to let me live it down, but…”_ _

__“Andy got Humperdinck,” Teddy said helpfully. “I told you: we make an effort to match our horses to their people as much as possible.”_ _

__Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s a pretty good fit. So what are you saying about me?” he added, trying to keep it casual. He’d die before he admitted how important this was to him. “Are you saying you think I’m a spoiled princess or something?”_ _

__“Nah,” Teddy said, one hand on Buttercup’s flank. He looked up to study Billy, squinting against the brilliant Montana sun. His brows were pulled together and his expression was so earnest, so _open_ it stole Billy’s breath. “It’s just…Buttercup’s the sweetest horse I’ve ever met in my life.” A pause, then, “Your guide’s leaving you.”_ _

__“Wha—” Billy began, head spinning. His body was throwing off sparks and he nearly listed in the saddle with the sudden wave of _joy_. Kelly, his parents, and his brothers were already beginning a leisurely walk away. “Oh.”_ _

__Teddy’s voice was pitched low and warm. “I’ll see you when you get back,” he said, lightly tapping Buttercup’s rump. “ _Hyah!_ ”_ _

__Buttercup took off after the others at a quick walk. It was all Billy could do not to fall as he twisted around in his saddle to cast the other boy one last, stunned, _hopeful_ glance._ _

___He thinks I’m sweet_ , Billy thought dizzily. That single thought kept him warm all through the long ride._ _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing Cris! Visit her at cris-art.tumblr.com!

Teddy stood by the rough-hewn fence, watching until long after the Kaplans disappeared around the bend. The sun had finally broken over the ridge of the eastern mountains, painting the peaks in shades of lavender and violet. Above, the sky was a wide, endless blue, fluffy white clouds sailing across its surface. He could hear the horses whickering and stamping their hooves in the nearby stable, and leaves rustled overhead like a Greek chorus at every cooling gust of wind.

It was going to be a _perfect_ day.

He ducked his head, grinning to himself— _blushing_ at the memory of Billy twisting around to stare at him. The look on the other boy’s face, the mingled surprise and hope in his eyes… Jesus, his heart kept kicking up pace at the memory. Maybe when Billy returned, he could talk him into helping stable the horses. It’d be good, he figured, to work side by side doing the thing he most loved. To stand behind him, close enough that he could feel Billy’s heat rising against his front, and lightly grip his hand. To lead him through the movements like something out of a movie. Billy would make a soft noise and drop his chin, long lashes dark half-moons on his cheeks. He’d go still within the circle of Teddy’s arms.

Pause. Breathe. Out and then in, hitching as Teddy dropped one hand to his waist.

And then, slow enough it’d feel like a revolution of the Earth, Billy would turn in Teddy’s arms—back now pressed against Buttercup’s tawny flank, dark eyes flicking up to meet his, lips parted—and tip his chin in subtle welcome.

And Teddy…Teddy would know what that meant, would know what to do, because in this fantasy he was never awkward or uncertain. He could cup Billy’s jaw in his hand and bring their mouths together on a shared breath and _kiss him_ the way he wanted to: without shame, without fear, without regret.

Just pure, honest _want_ humming between them.

Teddy expelled a breath and dropped his head, hat shielding his eyes as the sun crept higher and hotter in the sky. The yard was slowly beginning to fill as the guests began to stir from their cabins; pretty soon, the first riding lesson would begin. He should retreat back into the stables before someone spotted him. Before—

“What the _fuck_ were you doing with that boy?”

Before _that_.

Teddy squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a slow, serrated breath. Then he pushed himself away from the fence and turned, focusing on keeping his expression absolutely blank even as Gael stalked toward him. The other boy was dressed head to foot in black today, his own cowboy hat slung low over his eyes. He looked fierce, _furious_ , and so ridiculously, improbably gorgeous that Teddy felt a flash of residual fear.

 _It’s not like that anymore_ , he reassured himself, squaring his shoulders as Gael descended on him like a swinging fist. _He doesn’t have that kind of power over me._

“Morning, Gael,” Teddy said, pleasant but flat.

“Answer the fucking question, Altman.”

He cocked his head, a shiver of defiance locking his jaw. He wasn’t going to play into Gael’s obsessive jealousy anymore. “You’re right,” Teddy said as Gael crowded close; he refused to take a step back, the way he knew Gael wanted. “It _is_ a beautiful day.”

Gael’s eyes flared dark seconds before he _shoved_ Teddy back that crucial step. His lips curled when Teddy staggered. Then Gael straightened, his expression settling into an ugly smirk.

 _Victory_ , Teddy thought darkly, _fairly won or not._

“That’s right. Just mouth off at me again,” Gael said, hooking a thumb in his belt loop as he stared down his nose at Teddy. Framed against the rising sun, a lock of black hair falling across his eyes, he looked like a villain in an old western. All he was missing was a mustache to twirl. “I can see you want to. Why don’t you finish it with a swing while you’re at it? We both know you’ve got it in you.”

Teddy kept his jaw locked, fighting to swallow back the angry words that kept buzzing up from inside him. Rising to Gael’s bait would just make things worse; he couldn’t let himself give in to temptation. Too much was riding on him keeping his cool.

“I can see you _dying_ to just let me have it. Come on, Altman,” Gael murmured, voice dropping low and intimate, eyes deliberately sweeping down Teddy’s body. His hand stayed at his waist, thumb looped into his belt. Like this was some kind of old-fashioned standoff—guns at high noon—and fuck, he really needed to stop thinking of Gael this way. Gael was no gun-toting outlaw. He was no cold-hearted killer.

_No, if anyone’s the villain here, it’s you._

“Come on Altman,” Gael repeated, eyes skating light as a caress over Teddy’s face. “I know you’re swallowing back all kinds of bullshit you want to say to me. Like you always do. Well, let’s push past your crap this time, yeah? Let me have it. Hit me with your best shot.”

Teddy slowly shook his head, feeling the anger bleed away bit by bit by bit, leaving him hollow. He coiled his hands into loose, impotent fists. “I don’t have anything to say to you,” he said in all honesty—because after what they’d been through together, what was there he could say? “This has been over for a long, long time.”

But maybe honesty wasn’t the right call. Gael stiffened in response, eyes flaring wide before narrowing into slits. “ _Fuck you_ ,” he hissed seconds before rearing back and slamming his fist into Teddy’s stomach hard and vicious as the swing of a battering ram.

Teddy staggered back a step, breath catching high and tight in his chest. He grabbed reflexively for Gael’s arm as if to stop him, but Gael shook him off and swung again, this time aiming for his unprotected side. The sudden flare of pain was terrible and _energizing_ all at once. He could feel his body coming alive in full technicolor awareness at the hiss of breath, the sharp snag of agony, the rush of blood. The grateful fury, unleashed and bubbling up like long-repressed laughter in his chest.

_Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you._

Gael pulled his arm back again, ready to let his fist fly, but Teddy just snarled and flung himself forward. He slammed into the other boy with all his strength and they both went tumbling down into a cloud of red dust. The tense draw of his muscles felt somehow so very right as he pulled back and smashed his fist into Gael’s tauntingly beautiful face. He could hear the crack of skin on skin, feel the searing split of his knuckles; blood spattered the ground and Gael barked a mad laugh. Pink-misted spittle rose from his busted mouth, but Teddy didn’t have time to regret the blow—Gael was already grabbing for a fistful of his shirt, twisting the collar _tight_ about his throat.

“Come on, Altman,” he murmured, lips bright red, eyes glittering black. Teddy grabbed for Gael’s fist with a choked off snarl, fingernails digging into the corded muscles of his wrist. “Hit me again. You know you want it. You know you want it _bad_.”

“Shut. Up,” Teddy hissed, raking a raw furrow down Gael’s arm, peeling away dark skin. Gael gave a shout and loosened his grip, and all at once the air came rushing back. He dove forward without pausing to give Gael time to recover, a knee driving into the other boy’s stomach, one hand braced hard over his heart (hearing the wild pound of his heart, like a stampede) even as the other reared back. 

Gael barely resisted.

 _Crack_. The pain was an endless scream, but it felt so good too, so right—pressure that had been building and building for years finally blowing free. He sucked in a breath, eyes stinging, and let his fist fly again, again, as they went rolling across the hot grass, heels digging up clouds of red, blood dripping with each vicious blow, time like a dam between them, holding back the tumult of their shared loss.

“ _Do it_ ,” Gael was saying with each blow either of them landed. He looked deranged and _young,_ hat knocked into the dirt, face a smear of red. “Kill me too. Come on, _Teddy_ , you know you want to kill me too.”

“Shut _up_!” He lashed out, grabbing for Gael’s throat and bearing him onto his back once more—Teddy rising over him, fingers leaving flushed-pink, then white rings along the delicate column of Gael’s throat, tears turning his familiar face into a blur. “It wasn’t—I didn’t— Take that _back_.”

Gael just gurgled, breath a rattling rasp, and Teddy squeezed his eyes shut. Hated himself for not letting go.

“Whoa, whoa!” a sudden voice cried close to his ear. He felt strong, calloused hands grabbing at his arms and trying to haul him back. Teddy lashed out, fighting to stay where he was—holding Gael down, memories flashing strobe-bright in his head—but a plaid-covered arm hooked around his throat and _squeezed_. The breath left him in a desperate gust, fight bleeding away a second later, and Teddy let himself be dragged back with a low noise Gael echoed, as if the two of them were somehow still connected.

As if they’d always be connected.

“Jesus, be careful with the kid,” he heard someone murmur. He wasn’t sure who—the world was whiting out, eating away at the corners of his vision like corrupted film. “He needs to _breathe_.”

“Not until I’m sure he won’t make another lunge for the boss’s son, you shit.” The arm was still tight around his throat, allowing him just enough oxygen to keep from passing out. Teddy closed his eyes as Carey pressed her face against his, breath hot in his ear. “Teddy,” she whispered. “Calm the fuck _down_ , please, before you make it worse than it already is.”

He just nodded, squeezing his eyes tighter and tighter as he relaxed in her grip. Carey relaxed in turn, arm slowly dropping until she was gripping his shoulders, both of their breaths coming in sharp, rapid pants.

Teddy could hear the scrabble of boots scuffing the dirt, followed by Trev’s gruff voice: “Come on, Gael, let’s take a good look at you. _Jesus_ , boy, you trying to see how bad you can fuck up your teeth? ‘Cause I gotta say, once they pop out, they don’t _grow_ back gold.”

He made a low, distressed noise, turning his head away. Carey’s grip—once a retraint—now turned into an embrace. She was sitting fully in the blood-spattered grass and dirt now, knees cradling his shoulders as she tightened her arms protectively around his middle. One hand lifted, brushing the long ends of his bangs away from his face. “Shh,” she crooned close to his ear. “Hey, hey, shh.”

“To the Infirmary with you. Come on, lean on me—I got you. Carey, everything good with, uh…”

“Yeah,” she said, still stroking his hair. Teddy kept his eyes squeezed tight; he wondered, inanely, whether he could get away with never opening them again. Maybe if he never saw the result of what he’d done, he could erase it just as easily from his mind. “Go on. We’re good here. Aren’t we, Teds?”

_Fuck._

He listened to the sound of scuffing boots as Trev led Gael away to see the ranch’s doctor. All the while, Carey was stroking his hair and holding on as if afraid he would shatter in a million pieces if she didn’t hold him together. Hell. Maybe he would. He’d never felt so close to it before, even the night that had started all this.

But he couldn’t just stay here forever, and however much he wanted to, he couldn’t go through life with his eyes sealed shut.

Teddy reached up and gently clasped one hand over her wrist. She stilled, then sighed and dropped her arms, letting him sit up. The world seemed to spin with the motion, and Teddy reached up to gingerly touch his fingertips to his bloodied nose as he blinked open his eyes. His jeans were dotted with red and smeared with dirt, and blood was streaming down from his knuckles. That seemed to be the worst of it, however. Other than a bloodied nose and what felt like the beginnings of the bruise here and there, the only real _pain_ came from wounds he inflicted himself.

The shame of that rose in his throat, and he swallowed the bile down as he slowly pushed himself up to his feet.

“Careful there, Teds,” Carey warned, jumping up after him. She dropped a worried hand to his elbow, as if to keep him steady— _or maybe_ , a dark, quiet part of him whispered, _to keep you from going after Gael again._

The realization that he’d earned that mistrust had his stomach twisting unhappily.

“M’okay,” he said, gently tugging his arm free. “He barely hit me.” While not entirely true, Gael _hadn’t_ been as aggressive as Teddy knew he could be. That hadn’t been the point. “I’ll just…”

She caught his chin, turning his face toward hers. “You’ll just let me take a look at you,” Carey interrupted. She whistled, long and low, at the full sight of him. “Christ, Teddy. What the hell brought this on?”

 _It’s been coming for a long, long time_ , he didn’t say. He also didn’t try to pull away from her steady perusal—there was no point. “I don’t know,” Teddy lied quietly, eyes on the scuffed dirt between them. “It just _happened_. Can I go now?”

“Nuh-uh. Not on your own. Come on,” the older woman added, gently threading an arm through his. She leaned down to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it on his head before tugging the brim low to shadow his face. Gael’s lay abandoned in the dust. “Keep your eyes down. Do you got a kerchief you can use?”

Teddy fumbled for his back pocket, pulling out the green square. He pressed it over his mouth, letting her lead him away from the barn and toward the bunkhouse. “If anyone asks, you were so exhausted you plain fell off your horse this morning,” she murmured, head tipped toward his. A few of the hands glanced up from their tasks as they moved across the green. The fight itself had happened by the far end of the barn, limiting the number of witnesses, but Teddy had no doubt the truth of it would spread like dandelion fluff across all of Lonely Mountain before the morning was through, no matter what story Carey and Trev managed to cook up. Even if Gael didn’t have him dragged out of his bunk and tossed on his ass, homeless, jobless, friendless, there was no keeping the truth hidden for long at a dude ranch.

The wind whispered his secrets. The long grass rustled in quiet laughter.

God, he was such an idiot.

“No one’s going to believe that, Carey,” Teddy said. His voice came out muffled against the worn cotton. Someone cried out his name—one of the young sons of a guest—but Teddy pretended not to hear it. “Not least because I don’t fall off horses.”

“You did today,” she said stubbornly. “I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. Or…actually, you’re right. You didn’t fall. Your horse got spooked by a snake and bucked you. I saw it coiled there, like to bite as soon as hiss. Mean fucker. Good thing it got trampled.”

He stopped at the door of his bunkhouse. “Carey…”

But she just smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t _Carey_ me, Teddy Altman. I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you and the boss’s boy—as far as I can tell, no one really does—but I do know you. You’re a good kid, a _sweet_ kid, and you wouldn’t just take a swing at anyone unless he had it coming. And nothing,” she added when he opened his mouth, “you say is going to convince me otherwise.”

Teddy let the handkerchief drop. Drying blood clung to his lip, red stains blossoming like flowers across the green cloth. “You’ve got too much faith in me,” Teddy said, though he tried to smile and play it off like it was all just some joke. 

Carey, as always, saw right through that. She quirked a corner of her mouth, leaning in to gently press their foreheads together. When she cupped the back of his neck, fingers sliding up into his hair the way a mother might—comforting, warm, protective—Teddy couldn’t help the small shudder that worked its way through him. “Aw, Teds,” she said, a sigh curling through her words. “Not to sound too much like that Jedi you dig so much, but…I kind of think it’s more you don’t have enough faith in _yourself_.”

**

Buttercup? Was awesome.

“You’re the best,” Billy told his horse, leaning down in the saddle to gently pat her neck. She jerked her head just enough to show she felt him, golden mane flicking with the motion. “Seriously, the best.”

Andy—struggling to keep Humperdink from roaming off into the underbrush—snorted. “Are you talking to your horse again?” he said, tugging uselessly at his reins. “It’s not like it understands you. Left. _Left!_ ”

Billy just smirked. Even though he’d been nervous about actually riding, so far Teddy had been dead-on with his matches. Buttercup gave him some sass but seemed pretty willing to team up. Dread Pirate Roberts kept wanting to push ahead of Kelly and his parents, forcing David to mutter and tug back on the reins every few feet. And Humperdink?

“Left left left left!” Andy chanted, pulling at his reins. His horse just snorted and jerked its head free, plowing past a group of bushes and deeper into the treeline.

Yeah…Teddy clearly had some kind of superpower.

Andy heaved a deep sigh when Humperdink wrenched his head free and leaned down to chomp some grass. “My horse is broken,” he complained, twisting around in his saddle.

“Your horse isn’t broken,” Billy said. “It’s just being a horse.”

“ _You’re_ broken.”

“And _you’re_ an ass.” He smirked as he and Buttercup sailed by; he was pretty sure Buttercup deliberately swished her tail.

“ _MOM!_ ” Andy yelled, yanking harder on the reins. “Come _on_. Ugh!”

Their mother—already well ahead, moving side-by-side with Father and Kelly at a sedate, easy pace—barely glanced over her shoulder. “If you’re going to kill each other,” she called back, “please make sure not to spook the horses.” Then she turned back to Kelly with a wide, unbothered smile.

Sometimes his mother was _great_. Billy dug his heels lightly into Buttercup’s sides and left his brother struggling and huffing in the underbrush. It felt great to push ahead, moving past the rest of the group as his horse began to slowly pick up speed—as if she could sense his longing to move past the treeline and back toward the ranch. The sunlight was pouring through a canopy of leaves, casting swaying shadows across the dirt path, and the whole world seemed alight with birdsong.

And back at the stables, smile wide and sunny and _gorgeous_ , Teddy was waiting for them.

“Come on,” Billy whispered, pressing a hand to Buttercup’s tawny neck and leaning forward. “If you get us back to Teddy soon, I’m betting he’ll have a sugar cube for us. You. For you.” 

He almost swore he could feel a change in the way she moved at that, tempo quickening subtly, strides going smoother. Billy straightened, grip steady on the reins. If he tensed and relaxed his body just right, he could almost feel like he was moving naturally with the horse’s pace—each thrum of her hooves, each cascade of dirt.

“Don’t get too far ahead!” his mother called, but Billy was already breaking free of the wooded path and out into pure golden sunshine. It broke bright and gorgeous above him, and spread out at Buttercup’s cantering feet was technicolor green grass and masses of wildflowers stretched as far as the eye could see. They dipped down deeper into the valley before meandering toward that distant ridge of mountains, up up up to kiss the perfect blue sky.

Billy’s heart began to wing inside his skinny chest and, slowly, he started to grin.

“Yeehaw,” he whispered to himself, laughing when Buttercup whinnied in response and turned naturally—as if she really could read the thrumming impatience laced through his frame—toward the path that would lead them up the gentle slope to the waiting stables.

They didn’t slow until the ranch was close, oncoming rustic fences enough for Billy to tug at Buttercup’s reins and murmur, “Whoa, whoa.” She tossed her head but slowed, casting what felt like a reproachful look over her shoulder. Billy just grinned and reached down to pat her neck, keeping the reins tight with the other hand. “Sorry, girl, but I don’t think I’m up to jumping fences today. That’s just asking for some Bonnie Blue tragedy.”

There were other kids and their parents out and about, enjoying the beautiful day. Two little girls in matching hot pink cowboy hats trotted on fussy-looking ponies about one of the small enclosures, their parents and guide watching over them. Billy twisted around to get a better view as Buttercup made her way back toward the barn. The guide looked familiar, though he couldn’t place her.

Then she looked up and met his eyes, and his stomach gave an unexpected lurch. He frowned, tightening his grip on Buttercup’s reins, watching in confusion as she leaned closer to the little girls’ mother to murmur something in her hear—and then she was turning away and striding straight toward him.

“Uh, whoa,” Billy said again, tugging harder. Buttercup gave a huffing whinny and tossed her head, trying to press forward. Stubborn, like her namesake…and probably looking to get those sugar cubes he’d promised. “Whoa, whoa! Um, howdy,” he said, as the woman came up alongside him. She reached out to grab the reins just under Buttercup’s muzzle, and Buttercup came to an immediate, obedient halt. “I mean, uh, hi. Hello.”

She shielded her eyes. “Hi Billy,” she said.

It felt a little weird, that she knew his name when he wasn’t sure of hers. “Um, hi,” he said again, feeling awkward.

“Kelly’s bringing your folks in, right?”

He twisted around in his saddle, glancing down the slope toward where he could just make out David and the Dread Pirate pushing out of the tree-lined path and into the valley. “Uh, yeah, they’re down there. I just rode ahead. If…that’s okay?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I was just…” She studied his face for what felt like an awkward forever, then let out a heavy sigh. “Look, Billy,” she said. “Usually I try not to stick my nose into this kind of shit, but Teddy’s having a _really_ crappy day, and—”

Billy straightened immediately. “Teddy?” he said, heart giving an unsteady lurch. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” she said quietly, “he isn’t.”

And that settled that; he had to go to Teddy _right now_. He immediately swung a leg over Buttercup, sneaker catching in the stirrup briefly before dropping to the ground without too much flailing. She caught his elbow with one strong hand as he hopped to catch his balance.

“You good?” she asked.

Billy waved that off. “Teddy?”

“In the bunkhouse. You know where that is?”

He had the vaguest sense—enough to get him close, at least. “I’ll find it,” he promised. “Can you, uh…”

She rested her hand on Buttercup’s neck. “I’ve got her. I’ll tell your parents you went off for a craft lesson or some shit.”

“Right,” Billy said, already walking backwards toward the far gate. “Thanks, um…”

“Carey. Thank you for doing this, Billy.”

His ears heated and he jerked his chin in a quick nod, embarrassed and _thrilled_ that Carey—one of Teddy’s friends, one of the people who knew him better than anyone—thought to come to _him_ when Teddy was upset. That meant…

He didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t care. Teddy needed him, and that was all his heart had room for right now.

Billy turned on his heel and sprinted away. His sneakers kicked up red dust as he skidded around the corner of the barn, then clambered up over the wooden fence, not even bothering to take the time to find the gate. The late afternoon sky was just as wide and blue as before, the sun just as bright, but he no longer felt like a part of the day; all his focus was on finding the bunkhouse. Finding Teddy.

 _Helping_ him in whatever way he could.

There was a cluster of long buildings some distance away from the main cabins, just beyond the stables. Billy couldn’t swear to it, but it seemed like that would be where the hands would sleep. His guess was proven right when, just a handful of minutes later, he nearly bowled over an older man coming from the nearest bunkhouse, tugging on his jacket. Billy skidded to a stop, flushing when the old cowboy lifted both hands and his bushy white brows in surprise.

“Whoa, there. Where’s the fire?”

“Uh,” Billy said. “Sorry. I was just, um.” It seemed dangerous to ask after Teddy, somehow, in some stupid way he couldn’t define, but there were a _lot_ of bunkhouses. “Hey, actually, maybe you can help me. I was looking for one of the hands. Carey sent me after him. Teddy, I think?”

He winced inside at how stupid he sounded—how _obvious_ —but the old cowboy just squinted at him a moment before beginning to smile. “Sure,” he said. “Dunno if he’s in, but Teddy bunks down in number six. Just head on down that way,” he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, toward where more longhouses and smaller bunkhouses dotted the side of the hill, “and you can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” Billy said, trying hard to not blush. He bobbed his head once—even reached up as if to doff some imaginary cowboy hat and _oh my God_ what was wrong with him?—then skirted around the old cowboy and headed off at a quick walk.

Once he was out of sight around the corner of the bunkhouse, however, he broke into a run again. There were rustic-looking numbers nailed above each screen door, he noticed. Six belonged to a small bunkhouse—probably no more than one or two rooms—with a tidy front porch and a Kelly green door. He spotted signs of Teddy even as he hurried up the porch steps: a doormat with elvish scrawled across the natty front, seashell windchimes, prisms in the main windows, Teddy’s already-familiar boots perched just outside the front door.

Billy bit his lower lip, hesitating just an instant before lightly rapping his knuckles against old and pitted wood.

There was a stretch of silence.

Billy knocked again.

More silence.

“Teddy?” he called quietly, glancing once over his shoulder. He opened the screen door and knocked again, this time on the door itself. It rattled in its hinges, like a ghost settling its chains. “Um, Teddy, it’s me. Billy.”

There was a third long drag of silence—and then, so quiet he thought at first he might be imagining it, the tred of feet.

Billy pulled back a step, still holding the screen door open. His heart had winged up into his throat, pounding like a mad thing, and he impulsively wet his lips. When Teddy opened the door, he let all his nervous energy out in a deep, whooshing breath, eyes dragging down the other boy as he took in the stained jeans, the dried blood, the red-rimmed eyes and mussed hair.

“Oh,” Billy breathed. He’d been roughed up after school enough times to recognize all the signs; it was as if, for a painful moment, he was looking into a mirror back at the boy he used to be. “Oh, _Teddy_.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Teddy said quietly, but he didn’t resist when Billy pushed inside. The screen door slammed shut behind them and Teddy closed the main door a second later, even as he continued to protest. “You could get us in a lot of trouble.”

“Is that what happened?” Billy demanded, reaching up to brush his fingertips oh-so lightly across what looked like the beginning of a black eye. “Was this— Is this my fault?”

Teddy was already shaking his head before Billy could spit out the quavery question, one hand gently closing around his wrist. They were standing so very close. “No,” he said gently. “This has been coming for a lot longer than I’ve known you. I promise.”

“ _Who?_ ” It seemed impossible to imagine anyone wanting to hurt Teddy. He was just so… So… So _good_. So bright and funny and thoughtful and kind. “Who would—”

And then, of course, it hit him. “Gael.”

Teddy lightly squeezed his wrist, then stepped away. He moved deeper into the cabin, toward a tiny kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink?” he not-answered.

Billy followed at his heels, dogged. “It was Gael, wasn’t it? It had to be. God, Teddy, what did that asshole want?” He remembered his one and only run-in with Gael in perfect detail. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the venomous way Gael had looked at him—the way he’d dragged Teddy aside to “talk”. “It really is me, isn’t it? You just don’t want to admit it, but it is.”

“It’s _complicated_ ,” Teddy said, back to him.

Billy snagged his shoulder and turned him, using the momentum to step close into his space. “Bullshit,” he said.

Teddy turned his face, as if he couldn’t bear looking at Billy. As if, somehow, it hurt him. “It’s my fault,” he said, as if by route. Then, “I guess I had it coming.”

“ _Bullshit_.”

He didn’t know the full story, didn’t know what kind of bad blood was there, but Billy refused to believe Teddy carried all the blame. He may not have known Gael, but he knew Teddy—even after such a short amount of time together, he _knew_ him—and there was not a piece of him that could accept the hurt curve of Teddy’s shoulders, the clear inward-turned agony. 

“You don’t know the whole story,” Teddy began, looking up at last to meet his eyes…and that was ultimately what broke him, because God, there was no just world in which Teddy Altman looked like that.

“I don’t have to,” he said before reaching up to cup the line of Teddy’s jaw—and _kiss him_.

For one horrible minute, Teddy didn’t respond. At _all_. He stood frozen there, Billy’s lips against his, Billy’s hands on him, as if he were shocked into utter stillness. As if Billy had this all wrong, and Teddy hadn’t wanted him after all.

Stomach twisting into Gordian knots, Billy began to pull away. _Shit_. He’d really, really misread that. He’d thought— _Shit_. “Um. Can we pretend I didn’t do that?” he said, letting Teddy go and fighting the urge to wipe his fist across his lips, as if he could erase the awkward, unwanted kiss so easily. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard it was a physical ache, and he’d never wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole more. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, fighting to hide how hard his hands were shaking. “Yeah, um, I’m going to go over _there_ and pretend I didn’t do th—”

But his words were stolen in a breathless rush when Teddy suddenly surged forward, calloused fingers digging deep into tangled dark hair, and kissed him _back_.

And oh, _oh_ , it was— It was incredible, that sudden kick of pure joy hitting him hard, then shattering into a shower of sparks inside his chest. Billy made a soft noise against Teddy’s mouth, hands lifting, hovering awkwardly. His lashes fluttered as his eyes slid shut and he let Teddy’s grip on his hair tilt his chin for a better angle, lift his face into the bone-melting _warmth_ of that slow, breathless glide of mouths.

It was perfect. He couldn’t have dreamed it better, and it was all Billy could do not to melt completely against that broad chest. He finally dropped his hands to lightly cup Teddy’s wrists, then slid his palms down his arms, his broad shoulders, his chest. When Teddy shuddered at the touch, Billy could feel it in the hitch of his breath gusting across his parted lips.

God. He wanted _more_.

“Teddy,” Billy murmured, gripping fistfuls of plaid shirt.

Teddy responded with a hungry noise, fingers tightening in Billy’s hair. He slanted his mouth across Billy’s over and over, somehow managing to walk the increasingly fuzzy line between chaste and hot. 

Billy shivered, giving into insurmountable temptation to just collapse against the broad strength of Teddy’s body—thrilling at the hard press of their chests, the brief but electric brush of their hips. He made a noise of his own and rocked up onto the balls of his feet, arms sliding up again to wrap around Teddy’s neck, and he’d never be sure whether it was that or the _ohfuckyesgood_ drag of their bodies together, but Teddy _moaned_ and walked him back a jerking step, one strong arm going around Billy’s hips, and his tongue—

_Oh my god._

—his tongue teasing slowly along the crease of Billy’s mouth.

Billy’s lips parted immediately, welcoming, a torn noise caught in his chest when Teddy just swiped his tongue along Billy’s full bottom lip. It was torture, some kind of _cruel and unusual torture,_ and all of Billy was shuddering now. He was hard, erection straining against the zip as he tried to blindly chase Teddy’s mouth, wanting him so bad he could have, would have, begged for it. Just—needing to feel the slick of his tongue in his mouth, to feel the hard lines of Teddy’s body against his, to drag his nails down a broad back and let out the strangled moans that kept fighting to break free.

And then Teddy flicked his tongue across Billy’s lower lip before catching it between his teeth, scoring the swollen flesh before sucking away the sting and oh, oh, _oh_.

Billy jerked up hard, hips rocking forward, moan far too loud. But Teddy just wrapped his other arm around Billy’s waist and hoisted him closer, practically lifting him off his feet as he _finally_ stroked his tongue into Billy’s mouth, slicking against his, and oh God, it was all Billy could do not to writhe against him.

Hot. Slick. Aching down to his toes. The tangle of their tongues was slowly stealing his breath, and Billy couldn’t care. He moaned again, helplessly digging his nails into Teddy’s muscles as he was bodily lifted, erection dragging against Teddy’s thigh in a way that made him see _stars_. He would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t so turned on; it shouldn’t have been so easy for Teddy to unmake him.

But when Teddy finally broke the kiss to drag in sharp, uneven breaths—head ducked as if embarrassed by his own response, cheek against Billy’s temple, breath hot against his cheek—it was all Billy could do not to turn his face and catch his lips again.

“Billy,” he murmured, holding him almost too tight.

“ _Yes_.”

Teddy pulled back just enough to look at him, slowly letting him drop to his feet. Those gorgeous blue eyes were dazed, faint rings around endless black, and his cheeks were flushed. Maybe most importantly, he no longer looked as if the world had punched him in the face. The mussed hair and dazed expression were all heat, not a breath of misery left in him. “I want…”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said again.

He gave a surprised bark of laughter, one hand lifting to rub the back of his neck. “You have no idea what I was even going to say,” Teddy pointed out.

Billy just rocked up onto the balls of his feet, cheeks—and ears; he could _feel_ them—going cherry red when his cock dragged hard against Teddy’s hipbone. “I, um, I obviously don’t care very much,” he said, lashes fluttering against the spike of arousal. _Fuck_. “So, you know… _yes_.”

Teddy gave another breathless laugh, his own lashes fluttering. “God, you’re just so… You’re just so _you_ , aren’t you?” His big hands gripped Billy’s hips, thumbs rasping back and forth, back and forth across his jeans. The sound was enough to make Billy shiver. Right now, pretty much anything was enough to make Billy shiver.

“What do you mean by that?” he murmured. His arms were around Teddy’s neck and he was pressed just as close as he could be; each hot puff of Teddy’s breath against his upturned face sent a lance of pure _need_ through him.

“I mean,” Teddy said, leaning close. He pressed his lips to the soft— _sensitive_ —skin just below Billy’s ear then slowly kissed his way down. Down the pounding of his pulse. Down the arch of his neck. Down to brush across the wings of his collarbone, tongue flickering out to steal the briefest of tastes. “You’re just so…” Teddy looked up, blue eyes warm. “Perfect.”

“Oh.” It was almost impossible to breathe; he felt as if his lungs had shrunk six sizes too small.

Teddy lifted a hand to cup his cheek, expression softening. The touch was so _tender_ that all of Billy quaked in response. “Yeah.”

“Not to call you a dirty liar or anything,” Billy said, tilting toward the embrace, eyes going half-mast in pleasure; God, had he ever thought he could be somewhere like this, having a moment like this one? “But I can think of roughly sixty billion reasons why I’m not perfect.”

He laughed, thumb brushing across Billy’s lower lip. “Sixty billion?” Teddy teased.

“Roughly.”

Teddy tipped his face closer, and each jagged breath was shared. His lashes dipped as his gaze dropped to Billy’s mouth, so very near his own, and then up to his eyes again. “Well, now, looks like we’re at a standstill then,” he said. “How am I going to convince you to ignore sixty billion reasons—”

“Roughly sixty billion,” Billy interrupted, rising up onto the balls of his feet, fingers digging into soft golden hair.

Teddy swallowed hard. “ _Roughly_ sixty billion, right, thank you…and just trust me instead? Because, I gotta tell you.” Those big, calloused hands swiped up the arch of his spine, then down, then _under his shirt_ , thumbnails dragging against bare skin and stealing a breathless whine from deep in Billy’s chest. “You feel pretty perfect to me.”

Billy was six seconds away from hyperventilating. Five. Four. Three. Two… “You could try kissing me?” he said, and he didn’t, couldn’t, recognize his own voice.

“Yeah,” Teddy said, voice just as husky. “I reckon I could at that.” He brought their lips together for a single _perfect_ shared breath.

_One._

Billy surged closer, fingers snarling in Teddy hair tighttighttight. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might come straight out of his chest. It echoed inside him like a drum, tripping helplessly over itself as their tongues twined together. Their hands wandered.

When Teddy slipped his thumbs into Billy’s beltloops and hauled him even closer, the shock of arousal was so fierce that Billy very nearly cried out. He scrabbled at Teddy’s broad shoulders instead, hips urgently pushing up, heat blooming deep inside his stomach. He, oh, he needed, he _needed_ …

“Teddy,” Billy breathed, word closer to a moan. “I want— _Please_.”

Teddy pulled away just enough to look at him, one hand cupping Billy’s jaw again, the other splayed across his ass. His blue eyes were dazed. “Yeah?” he said, dropping their foreheads together lightly. “What do you want, B?”

Billy shivered and fought to find the words that could somehow encompass the impossible depth of everything he wanted. “I _want_ ,” he began—

—only to be interrupted by a sudden sharp rap against Teddy’s door.

They startled apart quickly, guiltily, Billy dropping hard onto his heels as Teddy pulled back. The look Teddy shot the door was almost funny it was so conflicted; his cheeks were flushed a cherry red and no one could miss that they had been kissing, even if both of them hadn’t been visibly aroused.

“Maybe they’ll go away?” Billy whispered hopefully.

There was another knock as if in answer.

“…hell.” Teddy cleared his throat as he pulled a full step back, glancing toward the door and then back at Billy again. “Yeah, this doesn’t look incriminating or anything.”

Billy winced. “Can you get in trouble?” He kept his voice low, still hoping that whoever it was would take the hint and just leave. He really didn’t want to be done kissing Teddy. He really, _really_ didn’t want to.

“Um,” Teddy said guiltily, which was its own sort of answer. 

There was another—louder—knock, followed by a muffled call. “I know you’re in there, Teds! Come on and open up, okay?”

Kelly.

“Oh jeez,” Teddy said, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Um. Okay, just…stay there. I’ll try to chase her off. Just a minute!” he added in a louder voice.

“Kelly won’t tell on you, though, will she?” Billy hissed. “She was the one who was practically throwing me your way!”

Teddy just shot him a look. “No, she won’t get us in trouble, but she _will_ tease me until the day I die.” Kelly pounded on the door again and Teddy winced. “Okay, shoot. Um. Just stay real quiet for a moment?” He rubbed a hand over his face, as if he could somehow so easily disguise what they’d been doing—impossible, with how rumpled he looked, how adorably flustered—then went to open the door a crack. “Kelly,” Teddy said, leaning against the wall, one foot braced along the edge of the door as if to keep Kelly from pushing her way through. “Hey. Um. What’s going on?”

“Hey, Teds.” Kelly didn’t sound like her chipper self. That in itself was enough to make Billy’s stomach start to drop. “Gosh, um. I _really_ hate to do this…”

Teddy straightened. Even though his back was to Billy, Billy could _see_ the tension that had bled from his big frame during their kiss come tumbling back bit by inevitable bit. “What is it?”

“The boss wants to see you.”

_The boss?_

Teddy’s hand dropped, falling limply to his side. Billy didn’t have to see his face to know what it would look like, and all at once, _hiding_ seemed like the most stupid, pointless thing in the world. It wasn’t as if Kelly didn’t already know he was there. He scrambled forward, reaching out to press a hand between Teddy’s worryingly tight shoulderblades. He could see Kelly’s expression over one of Teddy’s shoulders—could see the worry in her eyes—and he knew his instinct hadn’t been wrong when she gave him a tiny nod.

God. Something was _really wrong_.

“Teddy,” he said quietly.

Teddy reached back blindly, and Billy caught his hand, squeezing his fingers. “Did he say when?” he asked, voice utterly flat.

Kelly sighed and pushed back her hat, scrubbing at her brow. “I’m supposed to take you straight to him. He’s in the main office now. He… Teddy, this is bullcrap. I hope you know that.”

“No,” he said, too lightly. “It really isn’t. Okay. Okay, guess I’d better go.” He took a step forward, then paused and turned back, slipping past Billy as if he weren’t there—letting go of his hand and moving back into his room to quickly pull on a clean overshirt and splash water on his face. He dragged his fingers through the long ends of his bangs, eyes dropping away from the mirror almost instantly.

Billy backed up uselessly until he was standing next to Kelly in the doorway, watching. He wasn’t sure what to say; he wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to say it even if he did. Whatever this was all about—whatever being called to see _the boss_ meant—it was obviously serious.

Was it his fault?

Oh crap. Had that hand he’d asked for directions gone straight to tell on them? Was Teddy getting _fired_ because of him?

He looked up at Kelly, eyes suddenly burning, and the sheer empathy in her expression did little to alieve his fears. That wasn’t the look someone gave you when there was nothing to worry about; that wasn’t the look someone gave you when things weren’t life or death. _Fuck_.

“Did he say you had to be there?” Teddy asked quietly, stepping out onto the little porch to join them. He closed the door behind him, stepping into his boots and stamping his feet to settle them. His gaze ticked to Billy once before bouncing away.

Kelly spread her hands. “I’m supposed to bring you,” she said. “That’s all I know.”

“Okay.” Finally, Teddy looked at Billy. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to…”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Billy said quickly. He wanted to reach out and squeeze Teddy’s hand again—or hug him—or kiss him—or… _anything_. If it had just been the three of them, he would have. But he was hyperaware of the other longhouses dotting the hillside, of strangers moving about the hands’ cabins, of eyes on them. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead to hide the way they trembled. “Good luck with, um, whatever it is. Let me know? Please?”

_Please please please don’t shut me out now._

Teddy gave a faint nod. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll…fuck it, yeah. I’ll see you later tonight, whatever happens.” Then, giving a breathless sort of laugh, he suddenly stepped in, one hand cupping and lifting the sharp line of Billy’s jaw, and brushed their lips together.

It was over and done with fast, but not so quickly that they couldn’t have been seen. Billy let out a puff of surprised breath, staring up at Teddy as he pulled back. Kelly just clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and briefly _shining_ with joy.

Teddy shrugged. “Trust me,” he said. “After what happened today, _that’s_ barely going to register. Okay,” he added, turning to Kelly. The kiss seemed to have sapped away some of the tight anxiety for a second time today; he looked resigned but almost, _almost_ peaceful. “Let’s get this over with.”

Kelly still had her hand over her mouth, eyes dinner-plate wide.

Teddy blushed and dropped his head. “ _Kelly_ ,” he protested. 

“Sorry!” she said—gushed, really—dropping her hand before fluttering it uselessly between them. “I’m just— You just— I—”

Now Billy was blushing too, ears going hot. Teddy cast him a speaking look before hurrying down the steps, one hand clamped around the older girl’s arm, dragging her after him. “Come on,” he said. “Can’t keep the boss waiting, right?”

“Right,” she said, stumbling after him, expression shifting between joy and worry and joy again, as if her emotions were minnows in shallow water. God, Billy could relate.

Then, before they were more than six strides away, she broke out of Teddy’s grip and vaulted back up the steps, grabbing Billy in a huge, bone-crunching hug. He gave a little gasp, stiffening in surprise as he met Teddy’s eyes over her shoulder. He looked…tired, but okay. Like he’d been through too much already today to feel sad about whatever was about to happen.

Kelly squeezed tighter.

“Um,” Billy said, lightly patting her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered fiercely. “Oh gosh, thank you. You don’t know—it’s been _so long_ since I’ve seen him… Just.” She sighed and pulled back, eyes shining with what, Billy realized with mounting horror, were _grateful tears_. “I just knew you’d be good for him,” she said, then caught his face between her hands and gave him a smacking kiss on the forehead.

“Okay now,” Teddy said, trotting over to catch Kelly’s elbow and reel her away. “Now that we’ve gone and scared Billy off, let’s get today done with, yeah?”

Kelly rubbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Yeah,” she said, leaning against the younger boy as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

Teddy glanced back once as he and Kelly headed off to see that mysterious boss—to face whatever terrible thing both of them clearly expected—and Billy felt the confusion and fear and hope and joy bubble up inside him anew when Teddy met his eyes across the growing distance.

And smiled.

**

Gael’s father made a habit of _never_ seeing him.

To most everyone else, Teddy supposed, it didn’t seem all that suspicious. Mr. Morales was a busy man, after all, with a huge spread to run. He had people to see to the day-to-day grind while he took care of the Lonely Mountain as a whole. He had concerns that went far beyond schedules and minor squabbles. Why would he take the time to rub shoulders with the junior hands? Why would he ever need to?

But the others _did_ see him every now and again for this reason or that, and Teddy? Teddy had barely exchanged six words with his boss in the last four _years_. He only remembered his way through the main lodge up the sweeping steps and to the office suite with their wide western exposure because…

Well. Because some things became so seared into the brain, they were impossible to forget. They left ghosts in the shell, rousing from their long sleep as he retraced those steps he took so long ago.

He paused at the foot of the stairs, studying the landing above. Kelly had dropped him off at the main doors, whispering that she’d be waiting for him, after. He had no doubt she’d find a way to rope in Carey or Len or Walt or one of the other friendly faces. Something to cheer him up after God knew what. Teddy appreciated the thought. He appreciated _all_ of them. He appreciated all the years he’d been allowed to stay despite what he had done, and if it was all ending now, if he was being thrown out to fend for himself after all this time—

Christ. Worrying about it wasn’t going to help him now.

Teddy swallowed and gripped the rough-hewn railing, forcing one foot in front of the other. His heart fluttered uncomfortably in his chest; his stomach twisted. And yet somehow it got easier as he went. Step by step, breath by breath, finally facing the lion in its den. It was, he figured, about time.

There was one door at the top of the landing that would lead into the main office suites. It was slightly cracked, golden light streaming across Teddy’s face as he drew near. He wet his lips and reached to press his fingertips against cool wood, pushing it wide enough for the dazzle of sunlight streaming through the high picture window to momentarily blind him.

A throat cleared politely. “Please shut the door behind you,” a prim voice said, and Teddy dropped his gaze, trying to blink away the dazzle of black-and-white dots, and fumbled blindly behind him. He snagged the knob and pulled the door shut with a soft _click_. It seemed to echo too loudly in his skull.

There was a warning creak, and another cleared throat. He looked over with a faint squint to offer Mr. Morales’ executive assistant a wan smile. The main room was huge and dazzlingly white, vaulted ceilings giving the impression of a modern cathedral with its tawny exposed beams and wide-planked floors. A huge, round window took up a third of the far wall, three arched windows in a row beneath it. This time of day, the sun was just low enough to catch each pane of glass and refract, making the room almost seem to glow with light.

It should have been beautiful. Any other time, any other place, and it might have been.

“Can I help you?”

“Mr. Morales asked to see me,” Teddy said.

She blinked, and he had a sudden, wild hope surge in his chest—had Kelly gotten it wrong? But then her expression cleared, lips parting as she understood. “ _Oh._ Oh, of course.” Her eyes dropped to a bruise on his jaw, and Teddy refused to flinch. “He’s in his office; I’ll let him know you’re here to see him.”

He jerked his head in a nod, wishing he had his hat. It’d be good to have something to keep his hands busy as she dialed an extension and spoke quietly into her phone. As it was, he felt like he was about to go jittering out of his skin despite the sanguine assurances he’d given Billy.

 _Billy_.

Strangely, the thought of the other boy was enough to calm the surge of panic. Teddy drew a deep breath and let it out slowly as Mr. Morales’ executive assistant settled the phone back into its cradle. He squeezed his hands together and almost imagined those were Billy’s fingers tangled with his. “Okay?” he said.

She rose, smoothing her skirt. “Mr. Morales will see you. Please follow me.” Her expression gave absolutely nothing away, though there was a pitying kindness in her eyes that made his skin crawl. Teddy hurried to follow in her wake as she sailed through one of the far doors and down a long hallway. Open office doorways dotted the left-hand side—the various VPs and COOs and executives who were the public face of the business side of the ranch. The whole right-hand wall was made up of floor-to-ceiling windows, letting in that dazzlingly golden light. It was surreal, how different it was from the last time he’d made this trek. Back then, he’d been nearly sick with grief and guilt. The windows had been dark, stars a cold sentinel to his shame. Tears had traced hot down his cheeks. His whole life had rested in the hands of the man waiting at the end of this long journey.

Though maybe…maybe that wasn’t so different now.

He couldn’t let himself think like that.

The woman paused in front of the imposing door at the end of the hall and tapped lightly. At the muffled summons, she turned the knob and pushed the door open, stepping aside for Teddy to pass. The smile she offered was tight and small, and he made himself smile back, grabbing blindly for the door and slipping it shut behind him as Gael’s father turned from his study of the far window.

Mr. Morales had always been a man filled to the brim with life. He was as big and endless as the Big Sky Country itself, blowing into a young Teddy’s life and opening the doors of his ranch to him and his mother. While Teddy had never seen him as a _paternal_ figure, he’d never been able to help but see him as almost a spiritual leader. A totem. A…culmination of everything it meant to be in Montana, starting this new life surrounded by rolling hills and mountains and the horses he loved.

It had been so long since Teddy had been in his presence—and his memories of him had always been so much larger than life—that he supposed it made sense that Mr. Morales would be a giant of his imagination. He remembered him being very tall and broad, with skin like cured leather and black hair kept short, threads of silver along his temples just making him seem all the wiser. His eyes, Teddy remembered, had always been so very _kind_. But now?

He looked old.

Tired.

_Sad._

Gutted, the way he had so many years ago, the last time they had stood facing off across his ornate pine desk. God, Teddy wished this part, at least, didn’t feel so familiar.

“Mr. Morales,” he said quietly, leaning back against the closed door.

“I asked you to be careful,” Morales said, not looking up. He was standing by one of the many windows lining his office, staring out across the ranch. Those big shoulders were so stooped that he seemed almost small. The silver had spread from his temples, and the fine lines that had given his face so much character were deeper, fanning out across skin that looked shockingly thin and frail.

He was clenching and unclenching his hands slowly, Teddy noticed, knuckles going pale before he forced himself to loosen his grip over and over and over. There was a part of him that wanted to ask who Morales was picturing when he gripped his fists so tight—but mostly, he knew hearing confirmation of suspicions he’d held onto for _four years_ would be more than he could stomach.

Even though by all rights, he should. _Fuck._

“I told you that if you wanted to stay here, you had to help keep the peace.”

“I,” Teddy began, then swallowed his words. What could he say to that? _I tried?_ It didn’t matter that he tried. It didn’t matter that he’d made it for years without breaking. This morning, it had taken _so little_ for Gael to push him over the edge, almost as if Teddy had been waiting for the opportunity to crack. He’d been so fucking eager to ball up his fist and send it flying.

There was nothing he could say to defend that. Gael may have been making his life miserable, but Teddy had been the one to start it. “I’m sorry,” Teddy said instead, straightening. He moved slowly toward the desk, floorboards creaking beneath his tread. The room was so quiet otherwise that he swore he could hear his own heart pounding. “Mr. Morales, I am so sorry. I know I crossed the line, but I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t mean for—”

_For any of this to happen._

Morales finally looked up, tilting his chin so he was studying Teddy. Teddy froze mid-way across the office, blood going cold at the look in the older man’s dark eyes. He remembered the way Morales had _used_ to look at him, before. He’d been smiling, indulgent. _Warm_. There was nothing of that warmth left.

But there wasn’t the hatred he’d been half expecting, either. Instead, Gael’s father looked so defeated that something inside Teddy began cracking up and drifting away, like an ice flow on the cusp of spring. Christ, it was terrible; he felt tears prick hot against his own lashes immediately in response.

“Gael has hated you for a long time now,” Morales said, pushing away from the window. He even moved like an old man. “I guess it’s a wonder this hasn’t happened before.”

“It was my fault,” Teddy said quickly—so quickly that the words almost tripped over each other in the rush to get them out. “I swear, it was. Things were going okay for a long time, but he saw— I— There was this boy. And Gael was…” He wet his lips.

Morales sank into his big leather wingback chair, elbows resting on the arms, fingers steepled. The way his lips twisted was not particularly friendly or welcoming. “Gael was jealous, because in his mind, you belong to him.”

He had to duck his head, mortified by the flush he could feel racing up his cheeks. It wasn’t something they talked about. Hell, his sexuality wasn’t something he really let himself even _think_ about for years now, not if he could help it. Billy had been a surprise, a revelation, a…a sea change. He’d come in all awkward smiles and sarcastic humor and woke feelings in Teddy that had lain dormant for _so very long._

It was all so strange; he was still carefully feeling out his way, as if he’d been waken from a long sleep. Hearing someone like Mr. Morales—Gael’s father—talk so casually about the whole mess he’d made of his life was, God, awful. 

But he wasn’t exactly in a position to deny it, was he?

“You know my son as well as I do. You know he wants me to punish you by sending whoever this boy is away. Or, better yet, forbid you from seeing him. He wants you to suffer. Isn’t that right?”

“Mr. Morales,” Teddy began weakly, then startled when Morales slammed a fist down onto the arm of his chair. Teddy’s gaze jerked up, and the color that had bloomed across his cheeks immediately drained away.

Morales was _scowling_ , silver-threaded black brows drawn together, face a thunderclap.

“Yes,” Teddy said, refusing to let himself look away. “That’s what he wants.”

“It’s happened before.”

Teddy swallowed. “A long time ago.”

Slowly, Morales uncoiled his fist and steepled his fingers again. Those dark eyes were locked on Teddy’s face, brows still drawn fiercely—but there was a weary air to his look, too, as if Teddy were a puzzle he was finally tired of trying to piece together. “Hmm. Yes, you made that mistake once and promised yourself you’d never make it again, didn’t you?”

He was so uncomfortable he was very nearly coming out of his skin. Teddy shifted from one foot to the other, fighting not to let everything he was feeling show on his face. “If you want me to promise not to see Billy again,” he began slowly—only to stop. Was that something he was willing to promise?

Two years ago, there had been a boy—a summer hire come to work on the ranch for some kind of school credit. He’d been charming and handsome and friendly enough to win over most everyone. Even Gael had liked him at first. Teddy had more than liked him. They’d barely done more than hang out a few times, though—they hadn’t even kissed—before Gael had begun to catch on. And the fury and fallout from that one innocent almost-flirtation had been enough to keep Teddy locked up tight ever since.

He’d promised to stay away from _that_ boy, after. He’d kept his head down and focused on his work, ignored the whispers circulating through the ranch and done his best to forget about might-have-beens and if-onlys. In the end, it hadn’t even been that _difficult_.

But Billy?

Billy was…different. Billy was already something more. And he didn’t think he could bring himself to walk away, even if it never turned into anything more than a summer fling.

Teddy looked up to meet Morales’s eyes again, aware that all this and more was clear on his face. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said again. “If you want me to promise not to see Billy again, I won’t be able to comply.”

The older man tilted his head thoughtfully. “And if I ordered you not to see him?”

Christ, was he really going to do this? “I’d see him anyway.”

“Gael won’t like that,” Morales warned. “Ever since that stunt you pulled four years ago, he’s been fixated on you. He’s not going to just sit back and let you move on.”

“I’ll never be able to make up for what I did,” Teddy said—and for the first time, it didn’t hurt to say the words. “But I can’t be…be… _imprisoned_ by it forever. I have to move on, and so does Gael. And so do you, sir.”

Morales let out a harsh breath that almost sounded like a laugh. He rubbed at his tired face, meat of his palms digging into his eyes. “Are you telling me to get over myself, son?” he asked mildly.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” Teddy said, then tipped his head. “But yeah. I reckon I am telling you _and_ Gael to get over yourselves. My mother died. I’ve been letting Gael rule me for four years. I’ve been watching as _you_ let him. I guess it’s time to say when enough’s enough.”

He cleared his throat at Morales’s single arched brow and added, respectful but nothing close to meek: “Sir.”

Gael’s father watched him for what felt like a very long time after that, dark eyes studying him, weighing him, dissecting him. Paring him down to blood and bone, and for once, Teddy just held still and let him. This had been so many years coming, it felt like a kind of catharsis—the two of them finally putting to rest old ghosts that had haunted them for far too long.

Teddy’s mother. Gael’s mother. Gael himself, in a way. For a long, long time…Teddy had been one of those ghosts too.

No more.

 _I’m sorry, Mom_ , he thought, keeping his shoulders squared, his chin up. Whatever Morales had to throw at him, he’d take it and move on. It was about damn time. _For the last time, I’m so sorry._

Finally, Morales rested his hands on the old leather of his chair and pushed himself to his feet. He moved around the desk with the slow shuffle of a man twice his age, but some of the exhausted weight seemed to have fallen away. His lips actually twitched up into a smile when he reached Teddy, and Teddy didn’t fight when the older man caught him about the scruff of the neck and hauled him close, into a hard embrace.

He smelled like pine and peppermint; fatherly scents. Teddy sucked in a breath, filling his lungs with it as he relaxed by degrees into the embrace—slowly, his own arms slid around the older man’s back.

“You’re a good boy, Teddy,” Morales murmured. The hot gust of his breath rustled the hair at Teddy’s temple, and Teddy closed his eyes tight against the bright, hot burst of emotion. Never, _never_ would he have expected to hear those word from this man. “You deserve a good life. I’m sorry I let this shit drag on this long—for both you _and_ my son.”

“It isn’t,” Teddy began, pulling back to look at him, but Morales waved him silent. Teddy bit his bottom lip, swallowing back the rest of his reassurance.

Maybe it wasn’t his to give, anyway.

“You deserve better than this,” Morales repeated firmly. “You always have. Which is why…” He sighed and pulled back, light from the sinking sun painting his face in shades of red. “Which is why I am cutting you loose from the Lonely Mountain, effective the end of summer.”

 _Oh_.

Teddy drew in an uneven breath, aware of the world beginning to swim around him. His legs trembled and he locked his knees against the sudden impulse to sink to the ground—to let gravity have him. His heart gave an unsteady lurch and he thought, crazily, of Inigo in his stall. Of Buttercup and the Dread Pirate and Humperdink and, oh God, Kelly and Carey and his whole family. His little bunkhouse and the kids he taught and—

—and oh, _oh_ —

—his mother’s cairn sitting straight as the crow flies due south of the ranch.

“Sir,” he breathed, heart breaking, but Morales just held up his hand to stop him. His eyes, when they met Teddy’s, were unspeakably kind.

“Sit down, son,” he said gently, taking Teddy’s elbow in his grip and leading him inexorably toward one of the chairs ringing the big pine desk. “We’ll talk it out. When we’re through, I think you’ll agree that this course you’re going down is the first right one your feet have found in a long, long time.”

**

He’d tried to be patient. He really, really had.

It was just…it was so hard to sit tight and _hope_ as the sun sank low behind the mountains and the sky faded to lavender, to twilight, to indigo so deep it was like a living thing. The moon rose and stars were scattered across the sky and Teddy was only God knew where shouldering God knew what.

And Billy was trapped with his family in their little cabin, fighting not to jitter right out of his skin.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow responsible. If he hadn’t come barreling on into Teddy’s life…if he hadn’t flirted with him… _kissed_ him… Would things be different? Would Teddy be back in his bungalow now, stripping down for the night, listening to music and maybe reading a book and not worrying about, about, ugh, whatever?

Billy grabbed his pillow and shoved it over his face. He _hated_ not knowing what was going on. For the first few hours after Kelly had taken Teddy away, he’d loitered around the different bungalows and longhouses, trying to look busy whenever one of the hands wandered by. Eventually he’d been chased off and had to beg off of dinner… Then weasel his way out of a few hours around the fire… Then skip out on Monopoly to shut himself in his room and quietly shudder apart.

He kept hoping as the minutes stretched into hours that there’d be a knock on his door, or a subtle rap on his window, and he’d _know_ either way what had happened. He’d know whether he was responsible.

“Uuuuugh,” Billy groaned, voice muffled. This was driving him _crazy_.

Finally, unable to stand it anymore, Billy sat up. He flung aside his pillow as he scrambled out of bed, grabbing for his sneakers. He hadn’t bothered to strip down into his pajamas, so it only took a few seconds to slip into his hoodie before he was tip-toeing out through the main room. The cabin was dark—he could hear his father’s deep, rhythmic snores, as even as the tides—but he paused just long enough to be _sure_ before unlatching the main door. He slipped out onto the porch and eased the door shut behind him, too anxious to feel guilty.

The air was clean and cool; a low wind blew up the rolling mountainside, ruffling his hair. The sky was perfectly cloudless, waxing gibbous shining just enough light to make all of the Lonely Mountain ranch come alive before him. Billy filled his lungs with the clean scent of pine and brush before bending to tug on his sneakers.

Then, with nothing else to stop him, Billy hopped down from the low porch and began the hike to the main barn. That seemed like the best place to start his search—he may not have known the other boy long, but he knew enough to realize that if something happened to bring him down, he’d make a beeline for his horses.

The night felt incredibly still as Billy made his silent trek away from the guest cabin. Long blades of grass and random wildflowers bobbed in his wake, dragging against his jeans in a soft _whisk whisk whisk_ that underlay the unsteady pounding of his heart. He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept his eyes trained on the ground, trying not to let his hopes rise with every step he took.

The night was so beautiful around him. Serene, almost as if the whole world were holding its breath. Surely, Billy told himself, _surely_ nothing bad could happened on a night like this.

“The stables,” he told himself, mostly just to break the silence. “Then the bungalow. Then the greathouse. He’s got to be somewhere. He can’t have just…just disappeared or something. He’s _got_ to be _somewhere_.”

And then, heart filling with co-mingled dread and hope, Billy lifted his chin to glare across the rolling fields toward the darkened stable, hands balled into worried fists at his sides. He could still feel the impression of Teddy’s lips on his; he could remember the despair in his eyes, the bruises that spoke of so much more going on beneath the placid surface than Billy could know. He curled back his lip, nails digging half-moons into his palms. “He has to be _okay_.”

And then, as if in answer, a light bloomed to life in the stable’s high gable window.

Billy stumbled, nearly tripping over his own trailing laces. For one disbelieving second, he thought he may have hallucinated it—but no, when he stopped to blink across the gathered dark, that one lit window remained. It floated there on the black, like a ship in the distance.

And somehow, without really knowing how or why, Billy _knew_ it was Teddy in that stable loft. And he knew, with just as much certainty, that the light was meant for _him_.

Blowing out an unsteady, _grateful_ , breath, Billy stumbled forward again, this time hurrying his pace. He clambered over the first low fence instead of bothering to find the gate, gaze dropping to the ground to keep an eye out for manure before jerking up again—as if to check to make sure the light hadn’t disappeared between one beat and the next.

But it stayed, golden and unflinching. Waiting for him.

He heard the stamp of hooves and the quiet whinnys of horses in their stalls as he neared the stable. The side door was propped open by a fist-sized rock wrapped in some kind of dark cloth. Billy paused to snag it, pausing just long enough to turn and let the moonlight catch on deep green fabric with its familiar pattern of black and white paisleys. 

Teddy’s kerchief.

Billy twisted to look up, heart giving a ridiculous lurch. Teddy’s light cast a warm glow right above his head, as perfect and inviting as the boy himself. He let the rock drop to the side and wrapped the kerchief around his fist before shoving his hands back into his pockets, trying—and failing—to swallow back his shy smile.

The stable door creaked behind him, swinging shut as he carefully moved inside.

The inside of the stable was dark without the benefit of the moon- and starlight, but the hayloft floorboards were so ill-fitted that beams of golden light shone through, casting wavering lines at Billy’s feet. It gave just enough light to guide him to the main T-crossing and then to the right, past the long line of stalls. Horses whickered as he passed, nosing over the low doors to watch him go, and Billy couldn’t quite shake the impression that they were gossiping quietly amongst themselves.

Buttercup slung her head over her stall door and nickered at him, ears twitching. He almost walked right past, but the look she cast him was so _accusatory_ that he had to circle back with a low laugh, reaching out to brush his palm along her velvet-soft muzzle. 

“Sorry about that, girl,” Billy whispered. “I’m afraid I don’t have any treats for you, though. We’ll have to wait for Teddy if either one of us wants to get our hands on some sugar.”

Her ears twitched again and she shook out her mane in something so close to an annoyed scoff that he had to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. In the stall next to hers, Inigo butted his muzzle against the door and whinnied.

“I _know_ ,” Billy said. “That was really, really bad. Besides, I’m pretty sure you and me aren’t interested in the same kind of sugar.”

Neither horse looked impressed.

“Tch, fine.” He laughed, leaning in on impulse to press his forehead against her forelock. Buttercup gave his chest a hard nudge, but it felt decidedly affectionate—as if, now that Teddy had matched them, they were bonded in truth.

 _It’s funny_ , Billy thought, closing his eyes and running his hand lightly up and down her tawny neck, _that not that long ago, I used to be a little afraid of horses._

After a few quiet moments, she gave him another hard nudge—pointed, almost, as if she were urging him to hurry it up. “Right,” he agreed, stepping away with a crooked smile. “On my way, then. I’ll say hi to Teddy for you.”

Inigo stamped his hoof, and somewhere down the aisle, another horse whinnied loudly. Billy’s cheeks almost hurt from grinning as he passed on to the smaller T-crossing with its ladder leading up to the hayloft. It was so strange how transported he felt, just from a few seconds running his hand along Buttercup’s muzzle. There was a magic to horses, he figured; a kind of deep, undeniable _something_ that could take even the worst of days and make it bearable again.

He supposed that explained what drew Teddy so strongly to them.

The old ladder creaked beneath his weight as Billy climbed up into the dark thatch. The scent of clean stalls and horseflesh was strong below, but the moment he climbed up into the second level of the stables, he was surrounded by the fresh, golden scent of _hay_. It was everywhere, he realized as he straightened. Piled in big, square blocks and tied with twine. Scattered loose across the floor. Pushed into pillowy mounds lining what looked to be chutes that must feed down into the stables themselves.

Everywhere he looked there was nothing was heaps and heaps and heaps of it. And there, tucked by the far gable, glowing Rumpelstiltskin gold in the light of an old-fashioned lamp, sat Teddy Altman—blue eyes watching him across the gathered darkness.

Billy drew in an unsteady breath and started across the hayloft, moving carefully until he reached the outer corona of light. Teddy was sitting back against an uneven pile of hay, folded burlap sacks spread to make a sort of cushion. He’d fully cleaned up at some point, Billy noticed, though the bruise on his jaw was starting to darken, and he was—

He was smiling.

Billy let out his breath on a heavy, grateful sigh as he flopped down onto a pile of hay—then yelped and jumped up again, rubbing his ass. “Wow, ow, you guys _make out_ on that crap?” he demanded.

Teddy laughed and scooted over, making room for Billy on the folded burlap. “It’s where country boys get their best battle scars,” he teased. Billy eyed the burlap doubtfully—the sharp ends of hay digging into him had _hurt_ —but Teddy reached out to lace their fingers together, and somehow Billy was just _melting_ down into a breathless sprawl at his side within seconds, shoulder jostling Teddy’s, eyes wide and locked on his face.

The burlap, it turned out, kept most of the hay from poking through. Of course, with his fingers linked with Teddy’s, Billy wasn’t sure he’d notice if he started rolling around on top a bed of cacti.

“Hey,” Billy said, voice coming out stupidly breathy. He gave Teddy’s fingers an experimental squeeze, and his heart nearly leapt right out of his chest when Teddy squeezed _back_.

“Is for horses,” Teddy said, then ducked his head, dimple flashing dark and tempting on his smooth golden cheek. “Sorry, sorry, that was bad. That was real bad.”

“That was the worst,” Billy agreed. “ _You’re_ the worst. I think you owe me like a billion makeouts for that.”

He almost rushed to take back the teasing words when Teddy went still—but then the other boy tilted his chin, long sweep of his bangs falling into his eyes—and shyly tugged Billy’s hand until their linked fingers were sitting in his lap. He drew in an unsteady breath. “A billion makeouts, huh?”

“More or less.” Billy leaned a little closer, letting their shoulders press together. His cheeks felt so hot, they must be a brilliant red. “Though, uh, if we’re keeping track, my money’s on _more_.”

“I think I can manage that,” Teddy murmured in a low voice, and oh wow, it was crazy the way he could make Billy’s brain derail like that, pleasure blooming in bright firework reds and greens and golds in its wake. It was just…perfect.

He scrambled for the fraying ends of his thoughts, trying to weave them together into something resembling normal. “Um. _Um._ ” Teddy brushed calloused fingertips along the inside of Billy’s wrist over and over—so lightly, so perfectly, it took everything he had not to gasp. “I, uh, so, how did it go? With the boss?”

Teddy shrugged a shoulder. “It could have gone worse,” he said. His thumb rubbed a slow circle against Billy’s racing pulse.

God, it was embarrassing how easy it was for Teddy to turn him on. He could feel the growing prickle of heat, stomach tightening, pleasure blooming out. Billy leaned against Teddy’s side and hid his face against his shoulder, dragging in a breath. For all his joking about _a billion makeouts_ , he wasn’t quite sure how to _start_.

Should he just…throw himself at Teddy and hope for the best? Sprawl back against the straw and murmur _Take me, cowboy?_

“That’s good,” Billy said, because the silence was starting to stretch, starting to feel…heavy. Good-heavy. Impending-something-awesome heavy. And as much as his hind brain was whispering for him to just wait it out, let it happen, the rest of him was jittering anxiously, unable to let the moment be. “Um. And everything is okay with Gael and all?”

Teddy made a soft noise. “Billy,” he said, turning to face him. Billy lifted his head immediately, an apology already on his lips—but Teddy was smiling, one corner of his mouth twisted up wryly. “Do you _really_ want to talk about all this now?”

He _really_ wanted to be attached to Teddy’s face right now. “Um. No?”

The way Teddy laughed—quiet, deep in his chest—as he squeezed Billy’s fingers with one hand even as he reached up to cup the line of his jaw with the other would stay with him for the rest of his life. Billy was _certain_ of it. “Me neither,” Teddy said, and there was no hiding the weight on _intent_ behind his eyes as he dropped his gaze to Billy’s mouth.

_Oh._

Oh God _yes_.

Billy sucked in a quiet breath, practically vibrating with just how much he _wanted_ this. When Teddy began to lean in, Billy tilted forward to meet him, chin lifted, eyes closing, time seeming to slow as sparks danced against the dark backs of his lids…

…and then Teddy’s lips were brushing his again, and the whole world seemed to fall away.

Soft. Warm. Moving slow against him, lips brushing over and over as Teddy took his time relearning the shape of his mouth. Earlier, in the cabin, the air had been thrumming with tension. He’d barely had time to realize what he was doing before he kissed Teddy, and everything after that point was like running full-tilt before you’d managed to catch your balance.

This was different. This was _deliberate_ , Teddy slowly exploring his mouth as if he were staking some sort of claim.

His broad palm cupped Billy’s jaw, then slid up, fingers tangling in his hair. When he tugged to tilt Billy’s head, moving him for a better angle, Billy couldn’t swallow back the low moan. He detangled their fingers and reached up to grab fistfuls of Teddy’s shirt, surging up into a kiss that was getting dangerously hot for all that it still remained chaste.

Just…Teddy kissing the corners of his lips. The shadow beneath the bottom swell. The sharp jut of Billy’s chin. Down the line of his jaw, then up to press a whisper-soft kiss at the thundering pulse. Billy shifted restlessly, head falling back as Teddy nosed aside a dark tangle of hair and kissed just behind his ear. He was embarrassingly hard already, just from this, fighting not to make a sound. 

And then Teddy nipped the soft give of his earlobe before sucking it gently into his mouth, and there was no swallowing back his breathless moan.

Billy fought the urge to clap a hand over his mouth, heat blooming across his cheeks, but Teddy just made a noise of agreement and found his way back to Billy’s mouth. He tugged at the dark snarls of his hair again, just shy of too hard, and when Billy gasped in response, Teddy licked his way into his mouth, tongue brushing slow and deep.

 _Fuck_. Billy scrabbled at Teddy’s shoulders, nails dragging across his plaid shirt as he fought to get closer. Teddy just pressed a hand to Billy’s chest and pushed him back— _down_ , sprawling inelegantly across the burlap-covered hay. Teddy followed him down with something deliciously close to a growl, licking deep, _deeper_ , into Billy’s mouth. The broad weight of him was perfect; all around Billy was the scent of hay and oats and _Teddy_. He moaned again, louder this time, thoughts spinning away like whirling dervishes into the night.

 _God, yes_ , he thought. When he parted his thighs instinctively, Teddy was suddenly there, settling between them as if he belonged there. As if the solid weight of his body, the heat of him, the incredible scent-taste-touch were all something natural. Billy dragged in a stuttering breath when their lips parted, fighting the instinct to arch up into that promising weight even as he slid his hands down down down Teddy’s spine.

Teddy pressed their lips together again and smiled against his mouth.

And then, slowly, Teddy rocked his hips forward in a shallow thrust.

Billy broke the kiss with a cry, jolting up as if he’d been struck by lightning. God, maybe he had; maybe he should check to see if his hair was standing on end. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed. He squeezed his eyes shut at Teddy’s low chuckle, whining deep in his throat at the second very careful, very deliberate thrust. Teddy was—

Teddy—

Teddy was _hard_. Teddy was hard against him, and when he moved, that denim-covered erection dragged oh-fuck-so-perfectly over his own. Billy whined again and wrapped his legs around Teddy’s waist, digging his fingers into blond hair to pull his face up. He blinked open his eyes, staring up into that gorgeous, smiling, beautifully flushed face just inches away from his own.

“Hi,” Teddy breathed.

“…howdy.”

He ducked his head on a sudden laugh, catching his weight on the arm braced against the hay bale just past Billy’s head. 

Billy grinned up at him, giving himself over to the crashing wild joy filling him to bursting. He dug his heels into the small of Teddy’s back and tried rocking up against him, shuddering hard at the sensation…and the burst of brilliant pride when Teddy sucked in a sharp breath and grabbed hold of him as if Billy— _Billy_ —were somehow enough to make him shiver and shudder apart.

Fuck, it was a powerful feeling. He let out a harsh breath and captured Teddy’s mouth again, swallowing his cry ( _their_ cries?) when he did it again, again, naturally sinking into the rhythm of it. His body threw sparks when Teddy grabbed his narrow hips and suddenly dragged him up, still kissing; the whole world tumbled past until he was half-reclining on _top_ of Teddy, settled firmly within the cradle of his thighs, _feeling_ the hard jut of Teddy’s erection against his ass.

He thrust his tongue into Teddy’s mouth, loving the show of strength—wanting _more_. God, Teddy could lift him up against the stable wall and take him. He could bend him over a bale of hay and thrust his fingers deep into Billy’s body, could follow the messy glide with a flick of his tongue, could kick his knees apart and grip sharp hipbones and—

And oh, oh, wow, okay, maybe he shouldn’t let his brain get carried away, or his body was going to quickly follow.

Billy broke the kiss on a heaving breath, fighting against the surge of heat coiling hot and tight in his belly. He could come just from this, he realized. Just Teddy beneath him, the feel of clothed cocks straining together, the hot brush of his tongue and the galloping fantasies carrying them past frantic hayloft makeouts and into, God, so much more.

He wanted _so_ much more.

“Teddy,” Billy breathed, trembling on the brink.

Teddy lightly dropped his forehead against his shoulder. “Fuck,” he said feelingly.

“Um.”

He tilted his head, blond hair disheveled, blue eyes blown wide and dark. His row of earrings caught the fitful lamplight. “Not a suggestion,” Teddy said. “Yet.”

“Um!”

Teddy’s hands slid down Billy’s back, spanning across his ass all-too-briefly before sliding up again—this time under his shirt. The feel of those work-hardened callouses scraping delicately along his spine stole a strangled whimper from deep in Billy’s chest. “Someone’ll be along to check on the horses,” Teddy murmured. “We probably shouldn’t be caught up here. But God, I want to.”

“Yeah,” Billy breathed, fighting the urge to roll his hips forward again. It was a near thing. “I really, really want to too.”

“I want to do all sorts of things with you. And wow, that sounded dirty,” Teddy added, blush creeping up his cheeks, his ears. “But I actually meant, like…going on walks and taking you to the barn dance and stuff like that. Not, you know.” He paused. “Well. Maybe some _you know_ too.”

Billy laughed and pressed a hard, fervent kiss against Teddy’s mouth. It should scare him, how much he liked this impossible cowboy. It should leave him trembling in his sneakers, the idea that the summer would pass in a shimmering haze, and he’d go home, leaving Montana, leaving the horses and hay lofts, leaving the Lonely Mountain.

Leaving Teddy.

 _Not yet_ , he thought, curling his fingers in Teddy’s hair, pressing their foreheads together. The urgency of their kiss was slowly fading, leaving coils on golden heat in its wake. _We’ve still got time_. “I’m okay with all of that,” Billy said. Then he paused and pulled back to look at him. “Wait. _Barn dance?_ That’s a thing that actually happens outside of Hee-Haw?”

Teddy swatted at him and they both laughed; beneath them, horses whickered and stamped along. “I’m gonna deck you out in plaid and show you,” Teddy threatened. “Just you wait.”

Billy pretended innocence, eyes widening. “Oh gosh, will there be _square dancing?_ ”

“Okay, you sass now,” Teddy warned, “but you’ll be singing another tune when we’re do-si-doing.”

“Will that tune be _Achey Breaky Heart?_ ”

Teddy snorted and swung him back down again, pinning one of Billy’s wrist to the sweet-smelling hay and reaching for the rucked-up hoodie with his other hand, fingertips dancing teasingly over his skin—and God it felt good to laugh and thrash and play along, Teddy grinning above him, the stars big and bright through the window just over his shoulder, the whole big sky smiling down on them as he surged up suddenly to catching Teddy’s mouth…

…and their laughter melted into another long, slow slide into a simmering heat strong enough to make his toes curl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cris has been a huge inspiration. She started drawing pictures for this universe, and her drawings are the road map I'm using as I write. You should absolutely go tell her how awesome she is!

“Hey, Billy, could you go get me a new bridle?”

Billy looked up from Buttercup’s saddle. He’d been diligently tightening the strap the way Teddy had taught him, testing to make sure it was snug without being so tight it caused her discomfort. His other hand—absently stroking her flank as he worked—stilled. “Huh?” he said.

Buttercup shook out her mane with a displeased whinny, and Billy obediently began stroking again.

Kelly was standing a few feet over, ignoring Humperdinck as he butted against her chest. Her hat was tipped back, sunlight shining off warm brown skin, and her hands were moving with enviable grace as she gently tugged the horse’s bridle free. Humperdinck resisted for a moment, gritting around the bit as if he didn’t _want_ to spit it free, but all it took was a practiced brush of her hand and he was giving it up with a flare of big teeth and swipe of his slick tongue.

Crouched by her heels, watching the whole think from low against the ground, Andy murmured something that sounded suspiciously like, “ _Grooooody_.”

“Billy?”

“Sorry,” Billy said, shaking his thoughts free. He pulled back from Buttercup with one last, reassuring pat. “What was it you needed?”

“A new bridle. The leather’s gone weak on this one.” She leaned around Humperdink’s soft muzzle and tossed Billy the ropy leather and metal.

He flailed, barely catching it before it landed in the dirt at his feet. High above them all, sitting astride the Dread Pirate Roberts, David snorted. “Smooth move, Ex-Lax.”

“Bite me, buttface.” Billy straightened, carefully holding the bridle so he wasn’t in any danger of touching the metal. As comfortable as he’d gotten with horses by now, he would never, _never_ understand wanting to handle something a horse had been chowing on all morning. “Which bridle do you need?” Billy added, glancing at Kelly.

She rocked back on her heels, very casually tipping her hat further back. “Well,” she drawled, a slow smile ticking up one corner of her mouth, “it’s hard to describe it. But I reckon Teddy could show you where it is. This time of day, he’s sure to be in there tending to our latest foals.”

Billy flushed, eyes dropping quickly to the ground. Oh, oh man, he was being set up again. And not even very subtly! There was a part of him that wanted to resent Kelly’s heavy-handed matchmaking, but he couldn’t quite tamp down the curl of pleasure…of gratitude. He and Teddy didn’t have too many weeks before they’d have to say goodbye for good—any excuse to spend time with the other boy was one he gladly grasped with both hands.

“New bridle,” Billy said. “By the foals. Got it.”

But before he could turn away, Andy scrambled to his feet. “Oh _cool_!” he said. “I wanna see some foals! Kelly, can we go in to see some foals?”

“Whoa there, partner,” she said with a bright laugh. “I thought you wanted to learn how to clean a horse’s hoof.”

Andy huffed out a breath, looking mutinous.

“I get it if you don’t _really_ want to,” she added before Billy could think of anything to dissuade his little brother from tagging along and ruining everything. “When you pick a hoof clean, you have to be extra, super, _duper_ careful of the horse’s frog. You remember what that is, right? The softer pad in the center of the hoof? If you pick too hard, too fast, too carelessly, you could _cut_ the frog. _Bam!_ ” she added, slapping her hands together. Both Humperdink and Andy snorted in near-identical surprise. “Instant bloodbath.”

“Ooooh, maaaaaan,” Andy said, eyes going wide. He fully turned toward Kelly again, Billy—and the foals—forgotten. “Man. That is so _cool_.”

David snorted and rolled his eyes…but he was quick to slide down from his horse, hopping on one foot when his trailing laces got caught in the stirrup. “I want to see—I— Ugh, Billy, a little help here.”

“Sorry!” Billy called back cheerfully, already jogging toward the stable. Their parents were off on a nature walk (code: holding hands and making moony faces at each other) and Kelly had volunteered to keep an eye on them. He figured she could handle Andy and David on her own. (Besides, this was payback for the _way crazy obvious_ matchmaking.) “Super important mission here!”

“JERKWAD!” David called after him, but Billy was climbing over the fence. He was hurrying across the lawn. He was going to see _Teddy_.

His heart started kicking up in his chest the way it always seemed to whenever Teddy was near. It was crazy, the way his body responded to the other boy—as if they were linked somehow, electrical currents running between his brain and his heart and his…other places…throwing sparks whenever he saw the slow grin or the glint of light off golden earrings. It was Frankenstein shouting _It’s alive! It’s alive!_ in his head, all systems go, all dials turned to eleven, all—

He stumbled into the barn, looking around. Pathetically eager. One of the other hands looked up and gestured without speaking toward one of the far stalls.

Like he _knew_ or something.

Billy ducked his head, feeling the flush sweep over him but determined to keep going. He jerked his chin in thanks, not even certain the older man was looking at him anymore, and hurried down the central aisle to the big corner stall. He could hear the sound of movement inside, underscored by the soft—so, so soft—sound of Teddy’s voice.

“Come on now,” Teddy murmured. Gentle and sweet and enough to make Billy’s stomach bottom out in the sheer pleasure of it. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. That’s a sweetheart.”

 _Oh man, ugh, cute overload_ , Billy thought, leaning against the stall door and hooking his chin over the edge so he could stare (moonily) inside. Teddy was leaning in a half-crouch over a knock-kneed little foal, one arm thrown over her neck. He had a bottle in his other hand, milk sloshing around inside as the foal jerked and twitched and _strained_ toward it.

The second foal was already on the hay, legs folded up beneath it. She swung her head around to look at Billy, ridiculously long-lashed and the color of cream.

Feeling like an idiot, he pressed his fingers to his lips. She blinked in response.

“Come on, that’s it. Careful now. You don’t wanna spill your dinner, now, do you?”

Teddy had a way with animals, Billy decided with a soft internal sigh. It was something about the warm steadiness of him—the way he felt both _safe_ and _good_. The way he spoke with that low cadence that didn’t feel like a put-on or a show. The way his big, capable hands moved.

The way he _smiled_ , sudden and bright, dimples flashing at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” Teddy told the foal, tilting the bottle so the milk rushed more fully into the rubber nipple. “It’s gotten to the point where I can actually _feel_ you watching me.”

Billy straightened with a flush, hands curling over the top edge of the stall. _Busted_. “Oh yeah?” he said, trying to play along despite the kneejerk flash of embarrassment. “And what gives it away? A shiver up your back? Hairs standing up?” Teddy looked up, grin widening, and Billy beamed back. “Or did that one give me away?” He nodded his head toward the cream-colored foal.

“Yeah, Billy,” Teddy said. “You caught her. She started whispering to me the minute you showed up, straight up creeping.”

“Traitor,” Billy teased. The foal just blinked at him sleepily. “Am I allowed to come in, or should I stay out here and, you know…straight up creep?”

Teddy opened his mouth to reply, but his foal knocked against him, awkward hooves flailing. He quickly tightened his hold, using the broad (muscled, perfect) plane of his body to keep her from pitching into the straw in her eagerness to finish her food. “Come on now, it’s not going anywhere,” he promised, adjusting his position until he was kneeling in the straw. Then he glanced at Billy again. “Come on in. I could use some help wrangling this one. If you let her, she’ll try to swallow the whole bottle at once.”

“I can _relate_ ,” Billy said. He quickly stepped back just enough to unlatch the door, pulling it open and slipping inside before locking it behind him again. He hung Humperdink’s bridle on a hook just inside the stall before moving to join Teddy, circling around to the foal’s opposite flank. At Teddy’s raised brows, he added, “We’ve all had those days where it’s like, _down the hatch_ with everything that gets in our way.”

Teddy laughed and shifted his grip. “Okay, Scooby Doo. How about less narrating and more helping?”

“ _Gorsh_!” Billy teased, even as he crouched in the straw and slung a careful arm over the foal’s back, gently gripping her close. Her side expanded like a bellows and she rolled her eyes back to look at him—but she never stopped taking long pulls at the bottle. Good girl. “Does this mean I’ll get a Scooby Snack after this is done?”

“You’re sure to get _something_ after this is done,” Teddy said, voice pitched low, and Billy immediately flushed with giddy pleasure.

He bit his lip, looking down and trying not to betray just how easily those words thrilled through him. God, it was insane how Teddy could affect him. Insane and impossible and undeniable and wonderful. “Psst,” Billy said to the foal sandwiched like the world’s cutest chaperone between them. “I’m pretty sure he means _kissing_.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Teddy said easily. His cheeks were a bit pink too, Billy noticed.

“I reckon I’m clever like that.”

“I reckon you are.”

“I reckon I can say reckon more than you can.”

“I reckon your reckon is a reckon too far, my friend.”

Billy looked up, fluttering his lashes teasingly. “Did I ever tell you I love it when you speak cowboy to me?”

He laughed, tipping his head toward Billy. The light streaming in from the window found him like a spotlight, shining on golden hair and golden earrings. It made a sort of halo, and it was all Billy could do not to lean over the wobbly foal to find Teddy’s mouth and kiss him and kiss him and _kiss_ him.

 _Later_ , he told himself, biting back a grin of his own. _There’s still plenty of time for that later_.

“So what are these guys named?” Billy asked instead, refocusing on the task at hand. The foal had nearly reached the end of the bottle, its neck arched as it strained to swallow down just as much as it could. Billy stroked back a dark mane and floppy forelock, admiring its soft, brand-new-to-the-world skin.

Teddy shrugged a shoulder. “No one’s given them a name yet,” he said. At Billy’s faux-gasp, he added, “Why don’t you name them? I mean, you’re not going to beat _Inigo—_ ”

“Impossible,” Billy agreed with a crooked smile.

“—but I’m sure you can come up with something. Something better than naming them after ourselves, which I was tempted to do for all of a hot second.”

Billy squinted up at him. “Yeah?”

“Sure. On account of them looking like us. And kind of acting like us.”

He looked down at the little foal, taking in its dark mane and pale withers. Then he leaned back, checking out the second foal—gold on cream, its eyes sleepily sweet. “…huh,” he said slowly. “So, what kept you from it?”

Teddy ducked his head. “Uh, honestly? The horrifying thought that the would-be Billy and Teddy would someday be ridden around the property by people who practically raised me. I mean, when I wonder what my old friends are up to, I really don’t wanna think _Kelly probably gave Billy a good rub-down today_.”

Billy grabbed a handful of hay and flung it at Teddy, laughing even as he pulled a face. “ _Thanks_ for that!” he protested.

“Well!” Teddy tugged the empty bottle free, giving not-Billy a quick pat on the rump. “It’s a real consideration is all I’m saying.”

“One I’m not going to be able to shake out of my head next time I see her.” He rose, watching as Teddy started gathering up his supplies. Not-Billy tossed her mane with a low nicker (sassy, Billy couldn’t help but notice, just like her not-namesake) and began nuzzling at Teddy’s backside as if already searching for sugar cubes.

Or, you know, just enjoying the experience.

Billy covered his face with his hands, laughing. He could _feel_ Teddy’s speaking look all the way across the stall. “Shut up,” he said. “Her name is _not_ going to be Billy.”

“I’m just saying. It’s uncanny, is all.”

“Har har.” He dropped his hands, going to hold open the door for Teddy—and snagging Humperdink’s bridle on the way out. “Oh, hey, I almost forgot: Kelly wanted another bridle for Humperdink. I should probably get that and head back to the peanut gallery.”

Teddy brushed past with a warm smile of thanks, head tipping close to Billy’s—kissing close, for just a moment—before he was gone again. Billy’s heart gave a pathetic lurch. “She wanted a new bridle, huh? Did she say why?”

“Uhh.” Billy hurried out of the stall after him, closing and latching the door. He poked his head over to give not-Billy and not-Teddy one last look before jogging down the center aisle to catch up with actual-Teddy. “Something about the leather being worn on this one?”

“Yeah?” Teddy led the way into the back tackroom, setting the two bottles and work towel aside before turning back to Billy. The tackroom was quiet and dim, its sole window covered up with some kind of canvas workman’s tarp. It made the summer afternoon light soft and intimate. It made the whole world seem very, very far away, even if the stables were just beyond the still-open door. “Lemme see.”

Billy handed over the bridle without question, sucking in a quiet breath when their fingers brushed. He looked up through his lashes, studying Teddy’s face, and caught the way those blue-blue eyes flickered over to his. Deliberate. The touch had been deliberate—nothing more than a graze of calloused fingertips, but knowing Teddy _wanted_ to touch him, probably _wanted_ more than he’d dared to take—

His cheeks flamed. Billy shifted, stomach twisting into pleasurable knots, heat coiling tight tight tight.

“Hmm,” Teddy said, thumb sliding over the leather and metal. He’d shifted closer—close enough that Billy could feel the heat cast by his big body. Could smell the hay and sweat and sunshine on his skin. It was enough to make Billy’s stomach clench in reflexive pleasure. “Doesn’t look like there’s anything wrong with this one.”

Billy swallowed, leaning back against the lip of the workroom counter. He swallowed again, heart kicking up speed, when Teddy shifted to move deeper into his space, practically backing him up against its rough-hewn top. _Crap_. Yeah, yeah, wow, this was turning super-hot really fast. “Uh…the leather’s okay?”

“Leather’s just fine.” Teddy hesitated, the _leaned in_ with slow intent, setting the bridle on the counter—and leaving his hand there, resting on the metal casings. The gesture had his body tilted toward Billy’s, _pinning him in_ on one side, and wow, if he got any harder, these jeans were going to become a _serious_ problem. “You know what I think?”

“I…yes, tell me what you think.” He tipped his face up.

Teddy tilted his face down. “I think,” he said, breath hot on Billy’s parted lips, “that Kelly played you.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I think,” he said, other hand falling to the counter on Billy’s opposite side—and now he was completely trapped, bracketed by a broad chest and muscular arms. “That she wanted you to come see me.”

Billy wet his bottom lip, then nearly moaned when Teddy’s eyes dropped to the flick of his tongue. “And why would she do that?” he asked, though he already knew. He knew—had known the moment Kelly had handed over the bridle—had known every single time she sent him on some bogus errand to the stables or to the bunkhouses or back to the field where Teddy sometimes liked to sit and watch the clouds drift by.

The sometimes-painfully-obvious matchmaking should have gotten under his skin, but all Billy could feel was gratitude that he was given even a minute more in Teddy’s company. Well, that and a building heat, cheeks flushed and breath uneven as he looked up into Teddy’s eyes and _burned_ to be kissed.

Teddy’s gaze swept his face, hungry. His eyes were fathomless black ringed in blue. If Billy just tilted his hips up a little, God, would he feel Teddy hard against him?

“Teddy?” he prompted, hands falling to Teddy’s broad chest.

Teddy refocused on his eyes, brows lifting. He had to clear his throat before responding. “Yeah?”

It was strange, the power Billy felt, thrilling through his body—knowing Teddy was just as swept away by him as he was by Teddy. He smiled, lips curving at the corners, and slid his hands up Teddy’s chest to those broad, muscular shoulders. “Never mind,” he said, lifting his face for a kiss. “Forget I said anything.”

Teddy just made a low noise, hands dropping to grip his waist even as he captured his mouth. The kiss was sudden and hot, _hungry_ , and Billy melted into it with a muffled groan. The swipe of Teddy’s tongue rocketed through him; the firm grip of his hands made him squirm in response. He melted back, mouth falling open in welcome, tongue tangling hot, hot, hot with Teddy’s—stroking, gliding, twining, fuck, good. So good.

He could feel the rumble of Teddy’s growl deep in his chest, could do nothing but respond to the sudden hard grip of his hands, the way he pressed him back against the counter. Billy moaned again, rocking up into the sudden pressure—the scalding _heat_ against his cock, rippling through him like white light—and scrambled to hold on to the last slipping edges of his self-control.

They were barely hidden from view. Anyone could come by. Anyone could see them. At any moment they could be discovered.

And yet, oh God, _and yet_ he wanted nothing more than to cleave their bodies together. It had barely been a week since the hayloft and each day was building the fire in his belly. He wanted, fuck, he wanted, he _wanted_ —

Billy turned his face away on a strangled gasp at the hard drag of their erections; he tangled his fingers in Teddy’s plaid shirt, panting harsh breaths and fighting not to buck up against him. “Teddy,” he managed, barely recognizing his own voice.

Teddy pressed his forehead against Billy’s temple. His own breaths came in stuttered, harsh gasps. “Christ, Billy,” he said. “I want to— There are a heck of a lot of things I want to do with you right now.”

“Yeah?” He looked up to meet Teddy’s eyes, knowing it was a bad idea—was testing the boundaries of their control—but needing it nonetheless. “What do you want to do?”

“…you sure?” he said after the barest of hesitations.

Billy swallowed and nodded. This was crazy— _insane_ —but the illicit thrill, the _tease_ of it all, was enough to have him shifting and hot and needy. He wanted to hear what was unspooling in Teddy’s head, all in that deep, drawling twang. He wanted to tangle his fingers in blond hair and gasp against his parted lips and _ache_. “Yeah,” Billy said, reckless with desire. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Red heat crept up Teddy’s cheeks, visible even in the quiet dim. He wet his lips, hesitating, as if fumbling for the right words. Then he pressed in—slowly, slowly, slowly—and dragged his slick mouth across Billy’s racing pulse. The hot puff of Teddy’s breath was nearly enough to unmake him, and his _voice_ … “I want to grab you by the waist and hoist you up against this table,” Teddy began, low.

“ _Fuck_.”

“I want to push your thighs open— _wide_ , so wide it aches a little, muscles burning and clothed cock exposed.”

“… _fuck_ , shit, oh my God.” Billy grabbed at Teddy’s shoulders, nails biting deep, scrabbling for purchase. _Holy shit_ , when he opened the door to this, he’d had no idea Teddy would be _so good_ at talking so filthy. “Oh my _God_.”

Teddy took advantage of how off-center he was, pushing him back steadily, pressing their bodies together. He was hard against Billy’s hip, so hard, the rasp of their jeans blooming through Billy in aching waves. He tried to push up—to rock them together—but Teddy had him pinned. Immobile. Helpless.

Why, why, _why_ was it so hot that Teddy could do that to him? Could… _overpower_ him like that?

Teddy slid his tongue down the straining line of Billy’s throat, teeth gently raking. “I’d drop down into a crouch, my shoulders keeping your thighs spread, my breath harsh against the zip of your jeans. I’d look up to meet your eyes as I ran my tongue down the metal teeth, pushing in just enough that you could really feel it. Mouth so close to the head of your cock that you could—”

Billy dropped his head forward, biting at Teddy’s shoulder to help him swallow back a helpless whine. He’d thought he’d been hard before, but oh God, no, no that was nothing compared to now. His whole body ached with the steady pulse of blood—of need—of pure fucking madness, and he was three seconds from begging Teddy to touch him. To…to take the training wheels off their fumbling summer romance and just—

“—could _feel_ it,” Teddy continued. His arms were around Billy, his hands moving restlessly. His voice was pure honeyed gravel. “Could feel it down to your bones—hot. Slick. A promise of something more to come.”

 _Come_ , yeah, that sounded just about right. He twisted up, rubbing against Teddy shamelessly; his cock actually pulsed in response. If Teddy touched him now, he’d go off like a shot, teetering on the edge and gasping helplessly against one of those broad, perfect shoulders.

 _Touch me, touch me, touch me_ , he thought—not caring where they were, not caring that they’d decided to go (semi) slow, not caring about anything other than Teddy’s voice, the weight of his hands, the strength of him as he kept Billy pinned like a butterfly on a board. _Please, Teddy. Oh fuck, please_.

“I’d reach up with shaking hands. I’d be so turned on, Billy. So crazy for wanting you. My knuckles would graze against your belly as I popped the button free, thumb pushing against the head of the zip, wanting to free your cock—wanting it in my mouth—wanting…Gael.”

 _What?_ Billy thought, dazed. He caught himself against the work table, palms slapping hard as Teddy jerked back. He was so turned inside-out, so unbelievably turned _on,_ that it took him a solid twenty seconds before he caught the expression on Teddy’s face and turned to look through the open door.

Gael— _Gael_ —stood in the open doorway. His bruised and mottled face was half lost in shadow. His shoulders were set in a tight line. His fists were clenched. _Uh-oh_.

“I can explain,” Billy said, straightening, but Teddy caught his arm before he could backpedal and put any more distance between them. The grip was a vise, chaining him, keeping him close. When he looked up, startled, Billy was struck by how hard Teddy’s usually so-very-sweet expression was.

“Did you need something?” Teddy asked, voice ice.

Gael jerked his chin as if taking a blow. “Curry comb,” he said. “Some of us have jobs to do.”

“Some of us have _jobs_ ,” Teddy agreed. He didn’t let go of Billy’s arm, fingers tightening even as he leaned over and snagged a broad brush from its hook on the wall. He tossed it to Gael with just a little too much strength; the other boy caught it without a wince, despite the way it _slapped_ against his palm. “That all?”

“That’s it,” Gael said. He looked at Billy for the first time, eyes dark and unreadable. “Your _parents_ are looking for you, Kaplan,” he added, sneering the word—as if Billy were any younger than him; as if he were some kind of snot-nosed kid—before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Teddy watched him go, expression tight and unreadable. He didn’t let go of Billy’s arm.

“Well,” Billy said after another long minute, not quite sure how to break the tension but knowing he needed to. “That wasn’t awkward or anything.” He gave his arm a little tug.

Teddy looked down at him, startled, then let out a sudden, harsh breath. He let go, dragging his fingers through his hair as he turned fully to face Billy. “I’m sorry,” he said. There was a subtle hitch to his words that Billy may not have noticed just over a week ago. That was the thing about Teddy: his mind worked a thousand miles a minute, but he kept most of himself played close to the chest. It took so much to unravel just a quarter of what was going on behind those sky blue eyes. “I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“You’re not to blame for him. You’re _not_ ,” Billy added, grabbing Teddy’s elbow and giving it a little shake. The mood from before was broken—Gael, it turned out, was better than any ice cold shower. “He’s just a jealous, angry asshole.”

But Teddy caught Billy’s hand, tangling their fingers together briefly. His expression was unspeakably sad. “I _am_ to blame,” he said.

“You keep saying things like that,” Billy countered, “but I don’t understand.”

“I know.” Teddy made a face, looking down between them. Billy wanted to rock up onto his toes and brush their mouths together softly—soothingly—but he wasn’t sure he dared. They were barely hidden from view, and Gael wasn’t the only hand in the stables. They should have been more careful. “It’s…”

“Complicated?”

“Unforgivable.”

Well, screw the hands anyway. They were welcome to a free show if they really wanted one. Billy reached up to cup Teddy’s face, rocking up to brush their lips together. His heart twisted when Teddy turned his face away, but he wouldn’t let himself be denied—he kissed the line of Teddy’s jaw instead, soothing down to where his pulse raced. “Maybe if you told me,” he murmured, “you’d realize that’s just not true.”

Teddy let out a huff of breath, but one strong arm slowly—slowly, slowly—slid around Billy’s waist. “How can you say that,” he said, “when you don’t have any idea what I did?”

Billy pulled back just enough to really look at him. The strong profile. The glinting silver earrings. The long sweep of his bangs. He tilted Teddy’s face toward him, struggling to put every bit of himself out there for Teddy to see. _Read my eyes,_ he thought. _See it on my face. Believe me._ “I don’t care what you did,” Billy said slowly. Fumbling for the right words. “I care who you _are_.” And then he rocked up onto his toes again to lightly press their foreheads together, just for a moment.

That—somehow _that_ silly, fond gesture—seemed to do what all the pretty words he could scramble together could not. Teddy’s grip on him tightened, arms pulling him tight against his body. His shoulders shook once, though his eyes didn’t seem wet.

“I can hardly believe you’re real,” Teddy murmured, breath hot against Billy’s lips. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, blindly nuzzling at Billy’s cheek. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, okay. I’ll tell you. Just…”

“Not here?”

“Not here.”

His heart was swelling up like a balloon in his chest, growing bigger and bigger with each second. He felt ridiculously powerful, like he’d faced down Teddy’s demons himself and somehow won—even if he still had no idea what it was that had put that first hole in the dam. “I can try to sneak away tonight. No, crap, tonight we’re doing a thing for Dad’s birthday. Tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night’s the barn dance,” Teddy said. “If you can get permission to go, we can sneak off from there. Find someplace private.”

His whole body thrummed at the idea of _finding someplace private_ , even if that wasn’t what Teddy meant. “Mom already said I could go,” Billy said. “She said she thought it was nice that Kelly and Carey and everyone were taking such a liking to me, but, uh, I’m pretty sure she knows I want to go for you.”

Teddy blushed, pulling back—reluctantly, Billy thought. “Your mother is a smart lady,” he said. “Um, speaking of, Gael may not have been lying about her looking for you. You should go.”

“I should go,” he agreed, though it was the last thing he wanted. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said. He smiled, reaching up to brush his knuckles along Billy’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me; I’m tougher than I look.”

Billy laughed. “If you’re any tougher than you look,” he teased, “then you must be made out of adamantium or something.”

Teddy flashed a quick grin. “ _Vibranium.”_

“Neeerrrrd.” He had to resist the urge to press in for a final kiss, but Billy knew how that went—one kiss would lead into another, into another, and neither of them would be willing to let go. He started to turn away, then abruptly swung back. “Oh, hey, the bridle for Kelly.”

Teddy waved him off. “I’ve got it,” he said. “On the off chance that she actually _wanted_ a new one and wasn’t just playing fairy godmother.”

“She’s a _really_ obnoxiously good fairy godmother,” Billy agreed. Then, with a dorky little wave, he turned on his heel again and hurried out of the tackroom. The stables felt unaccountably bright and golden compared to the dim back room, the twin scents of oats and hay filling his lungs. He grinned at familiar horses as he raced down the central aisle, his heart tripping along inside his chest.

It was ridiculous, to be so happy knowing Teddy was going to spill his secrets—it was _obvious_ how heavily they weighed on the other boy. He shouldn’t get any kind of joy from Teddy’s pain. And yet knowing that Teddy trusted him enough to share that much of himself—that Teddy was willing to be completely open—that Teddy saw enough in their relationship, connection, fling, _whatever_ to let Billy in…

It was a heady thing. A heady, giddy, incredible thing.

He grinned to himself, head ducked down as he ran through the main stable doors and out into the sunshine. Billy spotted Kelly off in the distance, the horses in free run, his brothers nowhere to be seen. So maybe Gael _had_ been telling the truth.

“First time for everything,” he said to himself, veering left toward the cabins. He waved at a familiar hand as he passed, shouting back a bright, “Howdy!” when the man tipped his hat. Billy couldn’t help but wonder whether he’d dare to ask Teddy to dance tomorrow night, or whether they’d try to hide this thing between them even now that Teddy was free to do what he wanted. He wondered whether Teddy would take his hand as he led him away from the festivities. He wondered whether, once everything was bared between them, he’d find the courage to climb into Teddy’s arms and give himself to him completely.

 _Yes_ , a small part of him whispered. _Yes, yes, yes_. Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night, he’d do all of that and more. It would be nothing like those miserable dances from middle school, high school, Billy decided as he ran up the sloping hill toward his family’s cabin. All those years, he’d felt distant, othered. Awkward and weird and aware that no one thought he belonged. This time… This time, there was Teddy.

God, how different school would have been if there had been a Teddy. How different _Prom_ would have been—less sitting in corners waiting for the pig’s blood and more…taking a calloused hand in his. Looking up into a handsome face. Feeling powerful and connected and at home within his own skin.

 _So, make tomorrow night your Prom_ , Billy thought, vaulting up the last steps and throwing open the door. _Your cowboy Prom._ He hesitated on the threshold, making a face. _And note to self: don’t tell Teddy you thought of it that way. Ugh, dork._

“Hello?” he called, stepping inside. He could hear movement coming from the bedrooms, but the main living space was empty. “Mom? Dad?”

His mother stuck her head of the master suite; something about her expression made him slow halfway across the living room, then stop. His stomach began to fall even before she stepped out the rest of the way…her suitcase in her hands. “Oh, good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re back. Billy—”

“No,” he said, heart plummeting.

“Billy, the office called about an hour ago. I’m afraid they need your father to—”

“ _No_ ,” he said. He took a step back. The bright, irrepressible joy that had filled him like helium was quickly leaching away, chased by a shocky sort of dread. No, _no_. They had weeks left. He and Teddy had _weeks_ left. This couldn’t be happening.

His mother sighed and set down the suitcase. “I know it isn’t fair,” she said, “but your father is needed back in New York. We’re going to have to cut our vacation short.”

“When?” He couldn’t believe his own voice came out sounding so normal, as if parts of him weren’t folding in on themselves.

She brushed back her hair, visibly frazzled. That in itself should have been a clue. “It’s something of an emergency, I’m afraid,” his mother said—casually, as if she had no idea she was blowing apart his world one word at a time. “Pack your bags, Billy. We leave first thing tomorrow morning.”


	6. Chapter 6

His mother tapped lightly on the door.

“Billy?” she called. Her voice was muffled through the thick wood—distant and strained and uncaring and awful and _ruining his life_. “Sweetheart, it’s time to head up to the lodge for dinner.”

 _I hate you_ , he thought, even though that wasn’t entirely true. “I’m not hungry,” he said instead, which _was_ true. His stomach had turned into a rock the minute he’d read the truth in his mother’s eyes. It had just sunk further and further as the hours ticked by, the family packing up a cabin that should have been home for a few weeks more.

There was a pause, then the sound of the knob turning. He rolled onto his side, away from the door; the mattress shifted beneath his weight, and if he yanked his hoodie up, he could pretend none of this was happening. For the first time in, God, ever, he’d finally found something… _real_. Something serious and good and, and and… And like all the things other boys his age took for granted.

He’d spent twelve miserable years sloughing through school pretending he was content always being the odd man out—the gay Jewish nerd who got a little too invested in comic books and mouthed off to hide just how much it sucked watching all his friends pair off. But now, here, in _Montana_ for fuck’s sake, he’d finally found that one perfect someone who made him feel like it was pretty _cool_ to be gay and Jewish and a nerd. Like _he_ was pretty cool just the way he was.

And they were leaving; he’d never see Teddy again.

Several feet away, his mother sighed. He could hear her crossing her arms, but her voice was gentle when she said, “I know you’re disappointed, Billy.”

 _You don’t know anything_. Not fair, not fair, but _they_ weren’t being fair, either. He stared at the simple log wall and didn’t say anything.

“I wish we could stay for the entire vacation. This wasn’t how I wanted to end our last summer together. But your father doesn’t have a choice. They need him back at work. And really, isn’t that more important than riding horses and playing croquet?”

He wanted to grab his pillow and fling it as hard as he could. He wanted to drum his heels like he was still a little kid allowed to have tantrums. He wanted to shout, _is falling in love more important than Dad’s stupid patients_ , and go flouncing out of the cabin like the star of a bad teen drama.

He wanted to epically _lose his shit_. But instead he just sighed and rolled back over to look his mother in the eye. “I’m pretty sure we didn’t play croquet, like, even once,” Billy pointed out.

“Well then,” she said, “you’re not missing anything, are you?”

“Just one more day,” he begged. He hadn’t meant to ask again—she’d already said _no_ about a hundred different ways, countering every one of his arguments with brutal efficiency. “You don’t understand, Mom. We _have_ to stay just one more day.”

Billy could actually see his mother’s jaw tightening. “No,” she said, voice going tart. “I _don’t_ understand. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

 _Shit_. Back in the same corner he’d found himself in before. Because his mother (and father, to a lesser extent) was a creature of pure logic and reason. She was Spock, arching a brow and quoting the Prime Directive, and unless he laid out his argument with unbreachable care, there was no winning with her.

And he couldn’t, he _couldn’t_ tell her why it was so important they stay just that one more night, because if he mentioned the barn dance, he’d have to mention Teddy; and if he mentioned Teddy, he’d have to mention why it was so important he _go_ with Teddy; and if he mentioned why it was so important he _go_ with Teddy, he’d have to mention that he was gay and in the first bloom of first love and his heart would pretty much break if he wasn’t allowed to go to a fucking _dance_ and hold someone’s hand and sway to bad music and feel like everyone else got to feel every damn Homecoming or Prom that had passed him by.

This. Was. _It_. For. Him. This was his last chance to experience that simple teenaged pleasure before college and adulthood swallowed him up whole.

But he couldn’t say all that, could he? Because his mom didn’t know he was gay yet, and the start of a multi-hour car ride was maybe the worst time to come out of _that_ closet.

“I just… _because_ ,” he said, knowing he’d already lost.

She sighed and straightened. “Well, as compelling as _just because_ may be, I’m afraid _continued employment_ outweighs your argument. We’re leaving five-thirty tomorrow morning. Now,” his mother added, some of that tartness lifting from her voice. “Considering this is your last night at the ranch, do you want to try to rustle up an appetite?”

Billy turned back away. “No,” he said dully. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then come sit with us and enjoy the campfire. We’re all packed,” she added. “We may as well stay out late and enjoy the stars.”

He closed his eyes, picturing Teddy sitting by one of those campfires—cowboy hat tipped back, dimples flashing at the corners of his mouth, guitar in his lap as he strummed a soft tune. He’d stand when Billy came out of the lodge, smile widening and making something swoop and flutter in Billy’s stomach. He’d sit next to him all night if Billy asked, sharing last secrets before he left Teddy behind forever.

God, that hurt to think about.

“No,” Billy said, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m actually pretty tired. I’m going to just, you know…stay in and go to sleep early.”

His mother’s sigh was deep; he could only imagine what she was thinking. “All right,” she said. He could hear the scuff of her foot as she stepped back. “If you’re sure. Good night, Billy.”

“G’night,” he mumbled. He kept his eyes closed tight as she shut the door behind her. He strained to listen to the sound of her voice, followed by his father’s bass rumble. The creak of floorboards. The solid thud of the door. The sound of four pairs of feet heading down the porch steps and out into the early evening.

Billy counted breaths as he waited, heart fluttering in his chest, muscles gradually tightening into a clenched fist as the seconds ticked into minutes, into a quarter-hour. Outside the cabin, the crickets began singing and he swore he heard a horse whinny not too far away.

Finally, when he was as certain as he could be that his family had settled down for their last dinner, Billy rolled out of bed. He stood, dragging his fingers through his messy snarl of hair, and glanced out the window. The sky was huge and cracked open, stars beginning to brighten the dark in glittering wreaths. _Beautiful_. It looked so beautiful out tonight.

“Okay,” Billy said—psyching himself up for what he was about to do. “Okay, okay. Come on. Just… _do_ it.”

He yanked up his hoodie and shoved on his tennis shoes. There was no point gathering up anything else, but he did push his pillow around and plump up the blankets so it would look like he was sleeping if his mother checked in on him later. (Not that she would, probably; he was eighteen and going away to _college_ and not the sort to sneak out for the entire night to meet hot cowboys for one last hurrah.)

(At least, he was reasonably certain his mother thought that.)

Billy shut his door firmly behind him and took the time to carefully poke his head out the main cabin to make sure none of his family had doubled back. The coast was clear.

A wind blew as he hopped down to the grass and began to pick his way across the pasture toward the barn. It dragged the drawstring laces about his face, pointing like arms of a compass toward where Teddy ( _Teddy_ ) was probably finishing up work for the night. He’d mentioned that he planned to grab a late dinner before joining Billy at the campfires, so with any luck…

With any luck, he hadn’t already missed him. With any luck, this last chance wasn’t already fading in a dream of would-have-could-have-should-have-beens. _God, please still be there. Please, please._

He couldn’t escape the fear that he’d timed this all wrong and Teddy was already at the lodge and out of his reach. Spurred on by an anxiously roiling stomach, Billy moved to a quick walk. Then a jog. Then an outright run. The soles of his shoes slapped against hard-packed earth as he sprinted across the pasture and toward the main T-crossing of the stables, heart pounding loud in his ears.

 _Teddy_ , he thought, jumping the fence with more coordination than he’d ever managed in his _life_ , already stumbling forward before he’d fully hit the ground. _Come on, come on, please, Teddy_. There were still dim lights on, but that could be anyone or anything—another of the hands. _Gael_. Hercules completing the fifth labor and and and—

He ran through the door and around the corner, feeling a little crazed. Billy stumbled to a stop just a few steps down the main aisle, horses whickering with displeasure around him—and Teddy glancing up from where he was only just now closing Inigo’s stall.

Teddy blinked over at him, startled, but his expression immediately melted into warm welcome, _those dimples_ flashing when he grinned. “Hey, you,” he said, giving Inigo’s muzzle one final pat before turning toward Billy. “Decide to skip dinner?”

Billy let out a harsh breath before taking that first step down the long aisle toward Teddy. Now that he was here—now that he knew _Teddy_ hadn’t disappeared for good in a puff of smoke—his heart was starting to race for an altogether different reason. God, somehow he always forgot just how beautiful Teddy was. It always seemed too impossible when he wasn’t looking directly at him: like there was no way his eyes were that blue, his smile that warm, his features that perfect. Surely, _surely_ he’d dreamed him up.

He didn’t answer, stumbling a little as he drew closer, pulled toward Teddy’s gravity all the way into his arms. Billy pressed his face into Teddy’s shoulder as he fell against him, filling his lungs with the clean-bright- _good_ scent of hay and sunshine and sweat that always seemed to waft from the other boy’s skin. He would miss that so much. He’d miss the warmth of those arms going around him, the surprised chuckle that vibrated deep in Teddy’s chest, the press of those lips to his temple and the drawling:

“Hey, now, what’s this?” whispered against his skin.

Billy shivered and pushed as close as he could get into Teddy’s arms, wanting to be swallowed whole. _I can’t believe this is almost over_ , he thought, grabbing twin handfuls of the blue plaid. _I can’t believe I’m not allowed to have this forever._

He didn’t say all that, of course. Instead he turned his face to press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to Teddy’s neck and murmured, “Run away with me.”

Teddy swiped a hand down Billy’s spine. “Yeah?” he teased, not realizing just how serious Billy was. (Or at least, how serious Billy wished he could be.) “And where should we go? Up into the mountains? Down along the winding valley paths? Maybe crossing out of the Montana altogether and losing ourselves like tumbleweed somewhere out West.”

“Yes, okay, that sounds good.” He looked up with his best attempt at a smile, toes curling in pure pleasure at the affection in those sky-blue eyes. “Or maybe we should start smaller. I told my parents I’d be camping out tonight.” A lie; _such_ a lie, but it tripped off his tongue easily enough. “It took ages to convince them I wouldn’t get eaten by rabid coyotes or something, but they agreed. I was hoping I could talk you into camping with me. We could, um, ride out and enjoy the night and maybe stay out all tomorrow or whatever, and come back in time to head to that barn dance.”

He hesitated as Teddy’s brows began to climb in surprise. “I mean,” Billy said, “if you still want to go with me.”

“Of course I still want to go with you, Billy. I just…huh.” Teddy reached up to brush back a snarl of Billy’s hair peeking out from beneath the hoodie. “I’m just surprised about the rest of it, I reckon. You _really_ want to just go off camping tonight?”

“And most of tomorrow,” Billy added. He figured—hating himself for lying to Teddy _and_ his parents, but knowing there was no way around it if he wanted to have this one perfect night for himself, this _memory_ to take with him—that this was his only chance. If Teddy said no, then he’d have to come clean _now_ and say his goodbyes. “I know you’ve got the horses to watch over and everything, but, I mean, you’re not _technically_ fully employed anymore…right? So you can’t really get into trouble for skipping a day.”

Teddy was frowning. “I guess not technically,” he said slowly. “I’m seeing out the rest of the summer, but…I mean, I’m not on rotation or anything. I’m just filling in wherever I see a gap.”

“And oh, hey, look—I found a gap right here for you.” Billy pointed at himself, then paused, tilting his head. “Wait,” he said slowly. “That came out a lot filthier than I meant.”

“Oh thank God,” Teddy laughed, frown melting away as he caught Billy’s hand and pressed a playful kiss to his fingers. “Because I was just starting to think _hell, where are the cameras; I just stumbled into a bad porno._ ”

Billy smacked his chest. “Hey,” he protested, “I’ll have you know I’d make a damn _good_ porno.”

“Uh-huh,” Teddy said dubiously.

“I can show you,” Billy said, and immediately regretted it. He’d been _planning_ a seduction tonight—under the stars, out in the open, maybe by a fire Teddy had coaxed from twigs and cowboy magic—but just like many things in his life, it wasn’t supposed to sound quite so weird and awkward when he translated fantasy into reality. “Um. I mean. _Um_.”

Teddy looked away, blushing. “ _Um_ ,” he agreed.

And…and, well, he’d already botched things up—why not just go for broke. Plow through ( _ha!_ Okay, maybe his brain was stuck in the hay-scented gutter) and see his way out the other side. “Okay, truth talk?” Billy said. “If you agree to go camping with me, I’ll, um, I mean, I want— _Wecouldhavesex_.”

“ _What?_ ” Teddy pulled back to stare at him, flush making his entire face stain berry red. Billy could feel the answering heat on his own cheeks, but he refused to let himself look away. He had started this; he was going to see it through. “I, Billy— What?”

“Well,” Billy said.

“Billy— _what_?”

“Well!” Billy said. He flapped his hand at Teddy. “You know, since—I thought—I mean—God, you’re not going to make me say it _again_ are you?”

Teddy looked over his shoulder, as if checking guiltily for anyone who could overhear, and caught Billy’s elbow. He tugged him down the aisle—past the whickering horses—to the tack room. The tack room where, earlier today, the two of them had come very, very close to _something_ already.

Once they were inside the relative privacy of the dim room, Teddy turned back to face him. “Okay,” he said, “what is going on?”

“What do you mean?” Billy hedged.

“I mean… I… Jeez, Billy.” He gave a strangled laugh and pushed his hat back, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Are you actually, uh, serious? Or are you yanking my leg?”

Billy tilted his head. “That’d be a pretty shitty joke, don’t you think?” he said. “I mean…hi, how are you, let’s have sex—ha ha, just kidding?”

Teddy laugh-coughed into his fist, and Billy felt dangerously close to breaking into laughter, too. _Hysterical_ laughter, nerves and lies and fears and hope all buzzing in his stomach in a swarm as he made a last-ditch grab for the thing he wanted most in the world. “Look, um,” he added, pitching his voice lower and hoping Teddy could see the sincerity in his eyes. “I know we haven’t known each other all that long, but there’s no one else I’ve ever… I _really_ like you, Teddy. I like pretty much everything about you. And I’d like to, um, spend the night with you if you want. But if you _don’t_ want to, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. Because, I mean, I’d never try to force you to do anything you didn’t want, and…”

His words trailed off, broken, useless, at the soft noise Teddy made. Billy looked up through his lashes, half afraid of what he’d read in Teddy’s face. Amusement? Annoyance? Disgust? Affection?

 _Pain_. Out of everything, he hadn’t expected to see _pain_.

“Teddy,” Billy breathed, but Teddy was already reaching up to cup his cheeks. He dragged his thumbs along Billy’s jaw, tipping his face up up up for the soft brush of Teddy’s lips against his own.

It was… _oh_ , it was wonderful. Shiveringly light and warm, Teddy’s breath gusting over his cheeks as he touched the tip of his tongue to Billy’s lower lip—then slowly, sweetly licked into his mouth, coaxing his lips apart and sinking into Billy’s heat.

Billy sank into Teddy in return, rocking up onto the balls of his feet to keep the height difference from overwhelming them, arms going impulsively around Teddy’s neck. He moaned into the kiss, quiet enough it sounded like a sigh, and parted eagerly for the hot, slick glide of Teddy’s tongue.

 _Warmth_. It blossomed through him, unspooling in unsteady streamers as he rocked up onto his toes and tangled his fingers in Teddy’s hair. Stepping in, pushing Teddy back, their bodies pressed flush together in a way that made them both moan in concert. There was a soft _thwump_ as Billy knocked that cowboy hat to the dirt, needing fistfuls of gold—needing to drag Teddy in deeper, harder, _messier_. The slick of their tongues was obscene, the rasp of denim to denim, and fuck, fuck he was hard. He’d _been_ hard ever since saying those words all in a rush.

 _Wecouldhavesex_.

 _Yeah,_ Billy thought, catching Teddy’s tongue between his teeth before sucking away the sting. He rode out Teddy’s startled, full-body writhe, twin explosions visible behind closed lids. _Yeah, yes, please, fuck, please_.

Teddy finally broke the kiss on a serrated gasp, his big hands gripping Billy’s hips—before, oh God, sliding down to cup his ass. “We should,” Teddy began, voice husky.

“ _Yes,_ ” Billy agreed, pushing up against him. He felt a little crazed, a little desperate, already so keyed up it hurt. It was insane what Teddy did to him; the smell of grass and hay and leather and sunshine was some kind of powerful aphrodisiac—it had to be. Or maybe it was all the plaid Teddy wore. Maybe Billy had a fetish. Maybe he should move to Seattle or Portland and spend his whole life on this crazy high-frequency vibration—or maybe, _maybe_ it was just Teddy, and his heart would break when they parted and, fuck, fuck, okay, Teddy was saying something.

“—if you’re sure.” He turned his face to drag his nose along Billy’s jaw, then down to the wild flutter of his pulse. Teddy’s breath was a hot brand against his skin; he was carving himself into Billy’s flesh with each second that passed, digging a groove he’d never be able to deny. “I can have everything ready in ten, fifteen minutes tops.”

“I’m sure,” Billy said; he didn’t need to know the rest of what Teddy suggested to know he wanted to say yes; he wanted to play along. He wanted _this_ just as long as he could have it. “I’m so, so sure.”

Teddy pressed his lips to the join of Billy’s neck and shoulder—flicked his tongue over the skin, stealing a breathless whine from high in Billy’s throat—before slowly, reluctantly, pulling away. “Okay,” he said. “D’you remember how to saddle Inigo? I need to run back to my bunk to grab some, um, stuff.”

 _God_ Teddy was so cute when he blushed. “I remember,” Billy said. He rocked in for another kiss, but Teddy didn’t let it get out of hand—cupping his jaw and brushing their lips together so very briefly before ducking away. “Wait,” Billy added as Teddy stumbled through the tack room, hurrying as if he were fleeing from temptation; as if Billy was so alluring Teddy had to put space between them or give in to insurmountable desire, and fuck, fuck that felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. “Your, um, hat.”

Billy bent to snag it off the ground, holding it out, but Teddy was still backing up. “You watch over it for now,” he said, walking backwards, smile wide and eyes dark. He was still turned on, Billy saw—and the heavy bulge in those snug jeans was enough to make his stomach twist with reflexive excitement. “It looks better on you anyway.”

“Liar,” Billy breathed, but he held it over his chest and grinned after Teddy like an idiot. He was _still_ grinning, minutes later, when Teddy had disappeared back to his bunk—to grab _stuff_ ; _sex stuff_ —and Billy was left alone in the stables, surrounded by the soft whicker of horses and stamping of hooves.

Certain there was no one to witness, Billy ducked his head against Teddy’s hat and filled his lungs with the scent of him—the concentrated boy-sweat-smell that should have been gross but which, in reality, just made him, fuck, harder. He bit his lower lip, whining deep in his throat, and breathed through the reality of what was happening to him finally, after all this time.

Then, gathering his scattered wits, he plunked Teddy’s cowboy hat on his own head and walked—awkwardly—with his arms full of familiar tack to Inigo’s stall.

Inigo had his head over the stall door, watching Billy approach with what felt remarkably like judgy eyes. He let out a whinny that had other horses stomping and pressing against their doors; laughing in their own way. Or maybe it was like Teddy like to claim—maybe they were passing gossip down the stalls, huddling to watch Billy as he prepared for his rebellious night of, um, well, anyway.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Billy said, swinging the saddle over the edge of the stall before pulling at the iron lock. He tugged open the door, stepping back quickly as Inigo pushed his way through. In her own stall across the way, Buttercup gave a soft nicker. “All of you are _nosey_ , that’s what you are. Come on,” he added, getting to work. It was sloppier than when Teddy saddled his horse, of course—Billy’d only had a few lessons—but it would do the trick. Inigo didn’t seem to mind the unfamiliar hands, anyway.

He was just tightening the last strap, one hand stroking a dark flank, when someone came around the corner and headed down the aisle. Teddy, if the welcoming noises rippling up and down the row of stalls was anything to go by. “What do you think?” Billy asked, stepping back. He tipped back Teddy’s hat and dragged his sleeve across his brow. “Do I pass muster?”

There wasn’t an immediate response, and he started to turn, startled and suddenly afraid that it wasn’t Teddy after all—but big hands grasped his hips and tugged him back into a familiar broad body, and warm lips dragged down the nobs of his spine from his hairline to the collar of his shirt. The gust of Teddy’s breath made him shudder, banked fires sparking anew. “You’re a regular cowboy,” Teddy murmured.

“Yeehaw,” he gasped, and the tilt of his head may have been too obvious—too needy—but he didn’t _care_. Not when it led to Teddy’s lips, tongue, _teeth_ scoring up the sensitized skin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was crazy what Teddy could do to him with just a few touches. “I…”

“Hold onto the saddle,” Teddy said, and Billy’s head immediately flooded with a thousand filthy fantasies—images of Teddy tugging down their Levis and pressing Billy against the flank of his horse, erect cock dragging across the curve of his ass to press between his thighs and—

He _yelped_ , scrabbling to grab hold of Inigo’s saddle, as Teddy gripped his waist and lifted him up, hoisting him so high the stables passed in a dizzy blur. Billy swung one leg around clumsily, biting his lip hard at the way his jeans constricted too-tight against his renewed erection. It was—fuck, the saddle horn was _right there_ , and how was this his life?

Then Teddy was sliding his foot into the stirrup and rising up after him, settling flush behind Billy as if he was always meant to be there, backpack settled low against his spine. Billy let out an unsteady breath, relaxing back, practically melting into the curve of Teddy’s hips, belly, chest. Those strong arms wrapped around him to snag the reins and Teddy’s breath blared hot against his flushed skin.

“You ready?”

He could _feel_ the rumble of that question against his spine. “Oh my God,” Billy said, then laughed and turned his face to kiss Teddy’s jaw. He gave into impossible temptation and dragged his teeth along the sharp line, testing the very faint rasp of stubble with the flat of his tongue. “I am so, so ready.”

“Hold that thought,” Teddy warned, but there was a laugh _and_ a moan shivering under his words. “Unless you want me to run Inigo into a tree or something. _Hyah_ ,” he added, voice rising; Inigo started forward at a quick walk, passing down the aisle of stalls and out through the main stable doors, still wide open this early in the evening. The sun had long since set behind the mountains but the stars were only just coming out in earnest, sparks of light flickering into view like distant fireflies.

Billy gripped the saddle horn and wrangled his unwieldy hormones back under his control as Teddy carefully led them past the first pasture, then the second. By the time they hit the path that would lead them out of the ranch and down into the basin of the valley, his body was throwing off sparks of a whole different kind—new and exciting, exhilarating. Pure joy sizzling under his skin as Teddy wrapped a protective arm around his waist, giving Inigo full rein, and called out again: “ _Hyah!”_

They raced forward into the wide Montana night, under the watchful eye of a million winking stars, streaking down the mountain and into a valley full to bursting with hope and freedom and unrestrained possibility—a whole new world just waiting to be explored.

Teddy behind him, the valley open wide before him, Billy grinned into the wild rush of air and gave himself over to this last perfect night with the first boy he had ever loved.


	7. Chapter 7

He was unaccountably nervous as he led Inigo down toward the valley floor.

Of course, the butterflies had started filling his belly the moment he saw Billy, the way they always seemed to do. It was…it was _crazy_ the way this boy made him feel. It was new and exciting and wonderful and a little terrible and just, just so overwhelming that half the time he wasn’t sure which way was up or down. He wasn’t sure it mattered when he had Billy slotted warm and willing in his arms.

Teddy kept hold of the reins with one hand, sliding his free arm around Billy’s waist. His skinny body fit perfectly within the curve of Teddy’s…but God, that shouldn’t surprise him, should it? They’d fit plenty fine together right from the beginning.

 _I think I could love you_ , Teddy thought. He flushed and bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying it aloud. He had no idea how Billy would react to something like that. Would it be too fast? Too much? Would he laugh or turn away or get agitated or—

Or—

Or, no. No, Billy wasn’t Gael. He needed to stop bracing himself as if they were _anything_ at all alike.

 _I trust you_ , Teddy thought. And really, that was an even bigger deal than an _I love you_ any day.

The sky was fully dark by the time they reached the bend in the river. Teddy squeezed his knees together, subtly slowing Inigo even as he swept the rolling fields with a glance, searching for a likely spot. Hardly anyone came down here—shielded from the Lonely Mountain by a bend of trees and just far enough to be a bother, it was perfectly secluded, perfectly picturesque, and perfectly _his_. At least, it’d always felt that way when he’d come here in the past, needing to escape the chaos of the ranch and steal a few moments to himself. He’d never brought anyone along before.

Billy, it seemed, was a whole passel of firsts.

“Whoa,” he called as Inigo picked his way across the grass. “Whoa, boy.”

“Whoa is right,” Billy said, glancing over his shoulder with a flashing grin. “Holy cow, did you order this place out of _Cowboy Heaven_ magazine?”

Teddy laughed, dropping the reins and catching Billy around the waist as Inigo came to a gentle stop. “Yup,” he said. “ _Mail Order Mana_. C’mon,” he added, “leg up.”

“What? Oh!” Billy leaned back, awkwardly swinging one leg over Inigo’s neck. Teddy tightened his grip on his waist, tensing his biceps as he lifted Billy up and off the horse, guiding him into a more or less graceful slide down to the ground. Billy stumbled once as he hit the grass, but he caught himself with a sheepish smile, one hand pressing against Inigo’s flank. “Someday I’ll be able to do that without making an ass of myself.”

“By the end of the summer, you’ll be a natural,” Teddy promised him, swinging down. He dropped lightly to his feet, already shucking his backpack and setting it aside. The look Billy shot him was strange, but Teddy didn’t push. “Help me get Inigo settled? I’ll take the saddle if you get the bridle.”

Billy gave a quick nod, already reaching up to ease the crown and browband over Inigo’s flicking ears. Teddy leaned in, loosening the breast collar before hooking it to the stirrup. He ran his hand soothingly across Inigo’s side as he unbuckled the flank strap, followed by the front cinch. He grabbed both saddle and saddle blanket in a firm grip and lifted them free, turning to set them on the back of a strong branch instead of the ground, where the morning dew would leave them sopping wet.

“Here,” Billy said, handing over the bridle.

Teddy took it with a small smile, deliberately letting their fingers brush. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey, um, why don’t you pick out where you want us to put down roots for the night while I rub Inigo down? Any place along the bank is good.”

Billy flushed. “ _Um_. Okay!” he said. He snagged the backpack and hefted it over his shoulder, glancing once at Teddy, then Inigo, before ducking his head and slipping amongst the trees.

Teddy watched him go, feeling those butterflies quicken, intensify. He let out a shaky breath, slow grin spreading across his face. _God_ but Billy was just so…wonderful. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. It was ridiculous the way he made him feel with just one look, one smile, one blush. And tonight he wanted to…

Inigo whickered and Teddy looked back at him with a laugh. “Oh, hush, you,” he said, hanging the bridle on the branch and going back to his horse. “I may be a twitterpated fool, but I’m _your_ twitterpated fool, so you’d best get used to it. Here,” Teddy added as he tugged a small brush from his pocket. He hadn’t been able to grab anything but the most basic of supplies, but it’d be good enough for tonight—tomorrow, he’d give Inigo a full currying. “Let’s get you settled, huh?”

Brushing Inigo down—checking his hooves for rocks he might’ve picked up on the way—soothing his hand across the dark flank—was as much a meditation for Teddy as anything in this world. By the time he’d gotten Inigo settled and set free to graze, the nervous butterflies had settled again and his heart was beating normally. He tucked the brush between the saddle and blanket ready for morning and glanced at Inigo one last time before ducking through the trees, going in search of Billy.

Of course— _of course_ —the moment he spotted Billy smoothing out the blanket they’d be using for the night, the butterflies were back in full force. His heart gave a lurch, then started to race.

Billy’d shucked off his shoes and socks, plus the shapeless red hoodie he loved to wear. The thin t-shirt clung to the line of his back as he leaned over, smoothing out the blanket with visibly shaky hands. He’d piled together a small stack of branches and twigs, Teddy noted, and set the flint nearby for easy access.

Also tucked nearby for easy access? A completely innocuous-looking bottle and three small foil packets, glinting gold in the moonlight.

Teddy flushed.

He cleared his throat, feeling twelve kinds of fool when Billy glanced over to meet his eyes. There was a moment of tension, of _electricity,_ passing through them like a closed current as Teddy took a step forward, then another. Another. Billy straightened, hair a dark riot from Teddy’s cowboy hat—perched on a branch, ready to be snagged in the morning—and face pale. He flicked his tongue out, wetting his lower lip. In the starlight, he looked…so beautiful.

“Hi,” Billy said; his voice was a little hoarse. “So, I think I set everything up all right. I considered trying to get the fire going, but I figured that was a pretty good way to end tonight in unmitigated disaster. Smokey the Bear would have disapproved.”

“Only you can prevent brushfire,” Teddy agreed with mock-gravity. He forced himself to keep going, to keep moving, each step easier than the last until he was in the camp with Billy, close enough he could reach out and touch if he wanted.

And _boy howdy_ did he want to reach out and touch Billy, but first he needed to focus. “Okay, lemme get this going. Did you want to eat before, um…” Teddy crouched and quickly began fumbling with kindling, trying to hide the blush rising hot across his features.

Billy coughed. “ _Um_ ,” he agreed. “I think let’s eat later. I mean…I’m not very hungry right now. You know?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said; even his _ears_ felt hot. “I know. Okay, then lemme just…”

He made quick work of the fire, used to spending nights out under the stars. Teddy took a few extra minutes to make sure it was safely set, snagging a few river rocks to ring it. By the time he was finished, the fire crackled with warm light and Billy was sitting cross-legged on the blanket, watching him with the softest of smiles.

Teddy straightened slowly, dusting off his hands. He only hesitated a moment before kicking his boots and socks free, setting them next to Billy’s in an even line. His toes dug into the cool soil and a light wind blew, dragging the ends of his bangs into his eyes. Overhead, the sky was a deep indigo flecked with stars, so wide open it felt like falling into a geode. The river murmured in meaningless song and the fire cracked counterpoint.

He let out a breath and crossed to the blanket, dropping close enough to Billy that he could feel the heat being cast from his body.

Billy wet his lips. “So,” he said, sounding just about as nervous as Teddy felt. “This is camping in Montana, huh?”

“This is how I do it,” Teddy said. “Mom was never a big believer in tents. She didn’t like anything that got between you and the stars.”

“She sounds pretty great,” Billy said. “Your mom, I mean. From what you’ve, um, told me.”

 _She was the best person I ever knew_ , Teddy thought. He leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky to avoid meeting Billy’s eyes. Billy was getting too good at reading him—he’d _see_ something, some flicker of emotion, some dark eddy of guilt, if Teddy let him look his fill. “Yeah,” he said, simply. “So, hey, speaking of mothers—your mom is seriously cool with you spending so long out here with me?”

He _really_ should have pressed that issue earlier, before they’d crossed so much land and set out the camp, but… But, well, in his defense, Billy had started talking about _sex_ , and that was pretty much all he’d been able to concentrate on.

(If he was honest with himself, it was still a good 60% of his attention. Maybe closer to 80%. Mostly because, well… _sex_. With _Billy_. Billy, who looked at him sometimes as if he’d hung those stars scattered high and bright above them. Billy, who made him feel like the kind of guy who deserved looks like that. Billy, who made the softest, sweetest sounds deep in his throat, and who strained toward every touch as if he might die without Teddy’s hands on him, and who managed to scour away every bad memory, every dark corner of him each time he breathed his name. Billy…who was sitting there next to him, _warm_ and sweet and ready to be kissed and kissed and kissed like never before, stripped bare and aching beneath the wide Montana sky.)

Teddy swallowed, feeling the heat unspooling. Feeling his body responding. God, he wanted to be kissing Billy so bad it ached deep inside. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt like this before.

“Sure,” Billy was saying; he sounded a little breathless, as if he had any idea what Teddy was thinking. “Yeah. I mean, why wouldn’t she be cool with it? I’m practically an adult.”

Teddy tipped his head, gaze dropping to Billy’s mouth, lips curving into a crooked smile. “Uh-huh,” he murmured. His voice sounded just a little rough. “I can so feel the maturity wafting off of you.”

Billy reached over to backhand Teddy’s shoulder, laughing. _Flushing_ , color rising in delicate whorls across his skin, like the first rays of a sunset. The pink stain was beautiful, captivating, easily the most moving thing Teddy had seen in ages, and he barely gave himself time to think as he caught Billy’s wrist in a loose-but-firm grip.

As he dragged his thumb over the thundering race of Billy’s pulse.

Billy looked up, startled, eyes subtly widening. He lifted his other hand to brush back his hair, and Teddy caught that too—gently trapping his palms against the broad expanse of his body and watching as Billy’s pupils slowly dilated in response. His breath caught, stuttering in his chest as he wet his lips; his ridiculously long lashes flickered as he dropped his gaze to where Teddy’s broad hands encircled his wrists, then back up to meet Teddy’s eyes.

“Oh,” Billy said, lips parting. _Slick._ Ridiculously inviting.

“Billy,” Teddy began, keeping his grip tenuous enough that Billy could break free if he wanted—if he was reading this all wrong. (Please God let him not be reading this all wrong.) “Ground rules, okay? Tell me to stop, at any time, and I’ll stop. Tell me you don’t like something, at any time, and I’ll shift to whatever you _do_ like. Or if you don’t know, if you’re not sure what you like and what you don’t yet, we’ll find something together. Just as long as you talk to me and I talk to you, we’ll figure out something that feels real good for the both of us. Yeah?”

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Billy breathed, shifting in place so he could rise up onto his knees, practically straining forward like he was dying to start. His wild hair formed a snarled halo about him; his eyes were already impossibly dark and getting darker by the second. “Um, um, okay, yeah, okay, wow. Are we doing the sex thing now? We’re doing the sex thing now, aren’t we?”

That startled a laugh out of him. It was just so... _Billy._ Teddy sat back, letting go of Billy’s wrists as he grinned up at the other boy. “If you wanted… I mean. Jeez. I don’t know!” He laughed again, looking away self-consciously. “I reckon I thought I was being all smooth and stuff for a second there.”

“No no no, you _were_!” Billy practically tipped over himself to reassure him, grabbing at Teddy’s hands and squeezing. “You were doing really, really— It was good. It was great. Totally working on me. Um, obviously.”

It took Herculean amounts of willpower not to let his eyes drop to check out what Billy meant by _that_.

“I just…hi, I’m awkward and weird, but I really, _really_ want you, and I want you to do pretty much whatever _you_ want to do, and I promise I’m going to like anything we get up to because, wow, hi, have you seen you? And… And I ruined the moment you were building there, didn’t I?” Billy deflated a little, cheeks filling out as he huffed a breath. “You had this whole _consent is sexy_ cowboy dominant rawr thing going I just trampled all over it.”

“Cowboy dominant rawr thing?”

“Did I stutter?” Billy demanded, then laughed when Teddy suddenly lunged for him, catching him about the waist and twisting—hauling him up, up, one hand sliding along Billy’s side in a teasing caress, the other catching his hip to keep him steady. Billy jerked at the first brush of his fingers, barking out another laugh—another—twisting instinctively against him even as Teddy fell back against the blanket, slowing Billy’s momentum until he was rising above him, straddling his waist, eyes crinkling at the corners with a happy grin.

Teddy grinned back up at Billy and dropped his other hand to bracket his waist, holding him steady above him. He waited a beat, two, for Billy to catch his breath and his bearings, and _oh_ the moment Billy realized he was _straddling_ Teddy’s body was one he’d remember forever.

“Well,” Teddy drawled, thumbs tracing along the waist of Billy’s jeans, teasing at the sharp ridge of his hipbones, “would you look at that. Pretty sure this is what you could call a _city boy_ dominant rawr thing.”

“Shut up,” Billy breathed. He dropped a palm against the blanket on one side of Teddy’s head, then the other—taking his weight as he leaned close. Teddy could feel the hot puffs of Billy’s breaths, could soak in the scalding heat of his body. Could _feel_ the hard press of his cock through layers of jeans, holy fuck. “I need to concentrate on making out with your stupidly perfect face now.”

“Oh well, in that case,” Teddy said, and then they were kissing.

It was soft and slow and warm; a melting glide of lips and tongues. Taste. _Heat_. Teddy parted his lips on a sigh and shivered when Billy licked almost-carefully into his mouth—just tiny flicks of his tongue, testing the boundaries as if he had no idea _just how much_ Teddy wanted this. How turned on he was by Billy’s proximity alone. _Hard_ in his jeans, straining tight against the zip as he fought not to thrust up and instead focus on the way Billy slowly, slowly, slowly unraveled him one careful touch at a time.

God, he could feel his muscles tightening; he could feel the hard length of Billy against his stomach as the other boy whimpered into his mouth, chasing the noise with his tongue. The kiss was still so excruciatingly slow, but fuck it was deep, the only sound the crack of flames and the soft whisper of the brook and the almost obscenely wet tangle of their tongues, the shift of their bodies—

 _Rutting_. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t keep from digging his heels into the ground and thrusting up. Billy gasped at the move, hands dropping to grip his shoulders…and then he broke the kiss to _moan_ when Teddy shifted his hips and did it again, this time rocking their erections together. Hot hot hot, hard, fuck, _fuck_ , it felt so good. Teddy grabbed at Billy’s hips even as Billy buried his face against his shoulder, panting harshly against soft cotton. He could feel the scalding heat of each puff of breath against sensitized skin.

It was…it was crazy, the way Billy made him feel. His heart was racing and he couldn’t keep his hands still, couldn’t seem to stop _touching_ him. He wanted to push up Billy’s shirt and worry the flat disks of his nipples with his teeth. He wanted to suck away the sting, tongue teasing his skin as Billy moaned and keened and writhed against him. He wanted to roll them over and pin Billy to the grass—to the red Montana dirt—and bite his way down the heaving bellows of his chest, his stomach, all the way to those pale thighs he couldn’t stop imagining, and—

“God, you’re something else,” Teddy murmured, voice husky. Just _imagining_ all the things he wanted to do to Billy was enough to leave him shaken.

Billy gave a stuttery laugh. “You’re one to talk,” he said before propelling himself up to look down at Teddy. His hair was wild, though Teddy could only vaguely remember dragging his fingers through it; his eyes were darkly dilated. He already looked _wrecked_ , and they’d barely started. (If it kept being this good, he was pretty sure _finishing_ would kill him.) “You’re… _fuck_ , you know?”

Teddy flashed a grin and tightened his grip, driving up against him. The broken _noise_ Billy made was the hottest thing he’d ever heard. He swore he could come just from the sound, if he wasn’t careful. “I have a general idea,” he said. “The way you look at me… I never thought I’d be with someone who looks at me the way you do.”

That was probably too much truth, too soon. Teddy glanced away, embarrassed—then went still when Billy cupped his jaw.

Those long, clever fingers brushed over his skin, rasping against the stubble just starting to grow after a long day. Teddy wet his lips and let Billy turn his chin until their eyes were meeting again, Billy’s big and dark and full of all kinds of emotion Teddy didn’t dare put words to yet.

(His heart beat so fast it ached.)

“Someday,” Billy said slowly, thumb running over Teddy’s bottom lip, “you’re going to catch on that you’re ten times better than the world’s let you believe. _Twenty_ ,” he added at Teddy’s low noise. Billy leaned in and brushed their lips together—soft, a wealth of emotion there, humming between them. Teddy melted into the kiss and let himself be consumed by it, wanting to believe with everything he was even as he distracted Billy from the heartfelt moment with calloused hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt.

Pressing against warm skin and lithe muscles.

 _Sliding_ slow and hot and almost inevitable up the silky span of Billy’s bare skin, testing the feel of him. Billy made a low, hitching noise deep in his throat, arching helplessly into his touch. His cheeks were flushing bright and his eyes were going a little wild, just from a single slow caress.

 _Christ_ , Teddy thought, curling his fingers to let his nails rasp oh-so lightly over Billy’s skin. _I need to see more_. “Can I,” he began, hands dropping to the hem of Billy’s shirt.

Billy didn’t answer, color blooming bright over his cheeks as he pulled back and grabbed for the hem of his shirt. He yanked it up and off, taking the hoodie with it, and tossed both blindly aside. His chest was skinny and pale, almost completely hairless except for a dark trail dipping into the waist of his pants. His ribcage flashed as he took a deep breath: in, out, in, out, almost too fast.

Teddy reached up, trailing his fingertips reverently across the delicate wings of Billy’s collarbone; down his sternum; over tightening pink nipples. The moonlight painted Billy in shades of silver and blue, dappled shadow playing over the tapestry of his skin. Teddy slowly sat up, hands bracing the curve of Billy’s spine as he shifted in Teddy’s lap, straddling his hips—his waist. Teddy’s face was tilted up and Billy’s was tilted down, his arms around Teddy’s neck and his fingers tangled in his plaid shirt. His lips were parted with each heaving breath.

“You too,” Billy said, voice breaking.

“You do it,” Teddy murmured.

Billy actually _keened_ at that, very quietly, but his trembling hands dropped to begin picking at the buttons lining Teddy’s front. He fumbled at first, overeager, and tipped forward to catch Teddy’s mouth in another hungry kiss. There was a buzzing energy to Billy’s frenetic movements, a desperation that Teddy could _feel_ in the jerk of his hands and the swipe of his tongue.

He moaned up into the kiss, catching Billy’s tongue and scraping his teeth lightly down the length. _Fuck_ , but the way Billy bucked up at that, the way he choked out a moan, was enough to make him _ache_. He was so hard it was a kind of madness, his hands mapping Billy’s chest and dipping to knead his ass even as Billy rocked forward in increasingly needy ruts. His hands were making quick work of Teddy’s shirt, a few buttons popping free and scattering around them; God, Teddy couldn’t care less. He just needed the damned thing _off_.

“Teddy,” Billy murmured, pushing his shirt aside the moment the last button had been freed, urging it down Teddy’s shoulders where it stopped, trapped, at the crook of his elbows. “Off, off, off,” Billy chanted, grabbing a fistful of Teddy’s undershirt and tugging. He gave a wild, breathless laugh. “Oh my _God_ , why are you wearing so many layers? You’re like a Cowboy nesting doll.”

“C’mere and say that to my face,” Teddy teased. He let go of Billy just long enough to shuck off his plaid, then grab for his own undershirt, pulling it up and off in one easy movement. He tossed it in the general direction of Billy’s abandoned clothes, reveling in the heat of the fire, the cool wind, the _weight_ of Billy’s eyes drinking him in.

Billy had gone utterly still over him, pushed back just far enough to get a good, long, hard look. He bit his lower lip, gaze dropping slowly down Teddy’s body, taking him in with a sort of frank appreciation that had Teddy wanting to dive for his clothes _and_ strip the rest of the way, just to show Billy _more_.

God, it was a crazy high. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this way— _good_ , from head to toes, as if his life was finally looking up. As if all the shit he’d brought on himself was over and he had passed through to the other side—as if he could really, actually have this. And there was nothing he wanted more than to show Billy just how good he felt; how good Billy made him feel. How _right_ in his own skin, half-naked beneath a shining Montana moon.

“Billy,” he said, reaching up to cup the sharp line of his jaw.

“You’re _one how cowboy_ ,” Billy said, half teasing and half in awe. He dropped his own hands to Teddy’s chest, spreading his fingers wide as if to test the irregular beat of his heart. “Wow. I need to talk to your manager; there should be some kind of law against you riding around with a shirt on.”

Teddy dropped his head, laughing, but Billy just dug his fingers into his hair and tugged his chin up again—meeting him for a hungry kiss, their lips curved into twin smiles. It didn’t take much for that to sink into something hotter, _needier_ , their tongues twining slick and scaldingly hot, their bodies beginning to move.

To arch.

To _grind_.

He had all kinds of plans for what he wanted to do with Billy—all kinds of fantasies he wanted to live out. But suddenly, inexorably, all he could do was rise up onto his knees and bear Billy down half against the blanket and half on the cool grass, switching their positions, manhandling him, spreading him out beneath him as he reached for the waist of his jeans. “Can I,” he began, voice gravel.

Billy bit at his mouth and jerked his hips up, eyes huge and thighs spread in welcome. “ _Yes_ ,” he said. He reached down as if to help, scrabbling at the button of his jeans, hips pushing up in a mindless rhythm. There was a wet patch growing against the dark denim where the head of his cock was clearly outlined against the cloth; his breaths came in ragged pants and his hair was a snarl over his brow. “Yes, oh my God, yes. Teddy.”

He had to lean in to kiss him again, _hard_ , popping his button free and shoving down the zip one-handed. Teddy didn’t take the time for finesse, instead pushing his calloused fingers beneath the elastic of Billy’s boxers to wrap firm and just shy of too rough around his cock. It was, fuck, so hard, so _hot_ , filling his hand as he gave a single experimental stroke.

Billy’s cry echoed across the valley. He turned his face and slapped a hand over his mouth, biting into the meat of his palm even as his hips rode up, up, up, demanding more; helpless. “It’s okay,” Teddy said, shoving the v of Billy’s jeans wide and getting a better grip on him. He settled against the blanket, pulling Billy until his back was pressed against Teddy’s front, the angle _perfect_ for each quick stroke. “No one’s around to hear you, sweetheart; you can be just as loud as you need.”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Billy all but shouted, scrabbling back to grab at Teddy’s arm. He didn’t try to stop his steady strokes, however—if anything, he was egging him on, moving with the steady motion of his hand. All of Billy was tensed tight and vibrating, from his curling toes to the strained line of his throat. He cried out again, again, keening openly when Teddy dragged his thumbnail gently over the slit of his cockhead. It was slick, precome glistening in the moonlight; his dick was flushed a deep red, and oh God, yeah, he wanted him in his mouth.

 _Later_ , Teddy told himself, rocking his own aching cock against the curve of Billy’s ass, fisting him faster, and faster, trying not to tease. _Later, later, yeah, fuck, okay_. He mouthed at the back of Billy’s neck all the way up to his ear, catching the lobe between his teeth as he jerked him off. It felt wonderfully illicit being out here like this, bared and rutting beneath the watchful stars. It felt— He was sure— He was going to—

“Teddy, Teddy, _Teddy_ ,” Billy chanted, voice rising in pitch. He threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut, and Teddy rose up onto his elbow just enough to watch as Billy closed tight as a fist—then suddenly came with a loud, echoing cry. His whole body seized up with it, jolting with electric power as come striped his belly and Teddy’s fist over and over again. Billy grabbed at Teddy’s wrist, digging his nails in as his cry morphed into a dragged-out keen, whole skinny body shuddering with the power of his orgasm.

And Teddy…Teddy just gasped in helpless breaths and watched, hand still moving (slick now, Billy’s cock slippery with come) and eyes drinking him in. Loving the little noises he made, the way he curled back against Teddy’s chest, the red flush painting his skin from ears to cheeks to neck to chest. His nipples were tight enough that Teddy wanted to—

God. He didn’t even know. He wanted everything.

“Y-yeah,” Billy breathed, finally relaxing back. He squeezed Teddy’s wrist in a signal to stop, and Teddy slowed, then stilled, sticky fingers still loosely wrapped around Billy’s softening cock. That had been…shatteringly good. “Yeah, wow, okay. _Okay_.”

Billy took his time collecting himself again, breathing through the pleasure, the shock. He lolled back against Teddy’s chest, head tucked trustingly into the crook of his neck, pants spread wide and body exposed in a way that was both beautiful and profane. God, he wanted this boy. He was pretty sure he’d go crazy if this dream of a night ended and he wasn’t allowed to _have_ him.

No. No, he wouldn’t think like that. Not here. Not now.

Teddy nuzzled against Billy’s ear. “You okay?” he murmured, kissing his neck; his temple. Soft, soft, so soft. “Catch your breath?”

“Never again,” Billy joked, half-turning in his arms. Teddy reluctantly let go of him, letting Billy squirm around until they were face-to-face. Billy smiled, slow and a little wicked. “Not with you around. How ‘bout you, cowboy? You going my way?”

He groaned. “You’re terrible,” Teddy said, even as his body threw sparks. It was crazy what this boy could make him feel. “You know that?”

“Yup,” Billy said. He paused and bit his lower lip, gaze flicking down before slowly dragging back up. He opened his mouth…then closed it again, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

The moment was growing awkward, Teddy saw. The way he figured, there was just one way around that. “So,” he drawled, sitting up. He crossed his legs beneath him, ignoring the (aching) bulge of his erection by sheer will alone, loving the way Billy’s eyes followed him as if he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“So,” Billy echoed, still sprawled half across the blanket, resting his head on his fist.

Teddy cleared his throat, then slowly lifted his hand—the one still slick with Billy’s come. It glistened in the moonlight, fingertips dripping wet, a bead of it trickling down his wrist. He leaned in even as Billy sucked in a gasp, catching the bead with the tip of his tongue and licking up the curve of his palm to suck his fingers into his mouth. Teddy closed his eyes, humming in pleasure around his index and pointer fingers, making a show of it.

Making Billy want him again.


	8. Chapter 8

He was pretty sure this was what it felt like to be kicked in the face by pure _want_.

“Oh my God,” Billy groaned, staring as Teddy—as Teddy—as Teddy _sucked the come off his fingers_ , like they’d tripped over the edge of the blanket and gone tumbling head-first into some kind of amazing porno. Teddy’s lashes flickered, eyes closing as he made a pleased noise at the taste, tongue brushing slick skin and and and oh God, oh fuck. “Teddy, fuck, what are you—I’m—argh!”

The words ended on a useless, throaty groan as Billy launched himself up onto his knees, zip spread wide, cool air against his cock. His _painfully firming_ cock, heat lancing through him in what felt like aching rhythmic throbs. He bit his lip, jerking a hand down to squeeze the base of his cock as Teddy moaned again—loud, husky, spit clinging to his fingers and sinfully parted lips, connecting them in silvery threads.

It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. No one was allowed to be _that hot_ mere seconds after blowing his mind.

“I hate you,” he said fervently, tipping forward to fall breathlessly against Teddy’s chest. He wrapped both arms around his neck, pressing eager kisses to his jawline, his mouth, his wet (wet) fingers. Billy flicked out his tongue, tangling messily with Teddy’s, and the salty taste was both alien and wonderful. He whined low in his throat, catching Teddy’s fingertips between his teeth as they retreated, sucking at the raised whorls and instinctively riding out the shuddering heave of Teddy’s big frame.

And God, when Teddy just hissed a breath and fucked his fingers into Billy’s mouth slowly slowly slowly, then _fast_ , as if he were…

Billy squeezed his eyes shut tight and whined again deep in the back of his throat, cock twitching with painful renewed interest.

“Look at you,” Teddy murmured, close to his ear. He slid one hand down Billy’s back, cupping his ass and squeezing just shy of too tight. “Jesus, Billy. I want you so bad.”

He let his head fall back, teeth raking Teddy’s slick fingers before finally letting go. His lips felt swollen, tongue clumsy, tastebuds alight, and he wondered, suddenly, whether Teddy would taste any different. What it would feel like to stretch his lips around his cock and find out.

Billy dropped his hand between them and squeezed his own cock again, whimpering. The burn of renewed arousal was so strong he wanted to curl into a ball, almost as much as he wanted Teddy to push him down and…something. Anything.

“Just, fuck,” Teddy was still saying. “I want to—Billy. I want to see what you look like under the stars.” He leaned in, catching Billy’s earlobe between his teeth before dragging a hot kiss along the arch of his neck; his tongue swirled hot and wet across the wings of his collarbone. “I want to see you, I want—” Teddy’s teeth clacked as he raked them over the sharp relief of bone. Billy moaned and tilted his head further back, inviting more, wanting everything. “I want to see what you look like covered in my come.”

Billy startled up, eyes huge, body clenching in instant, unbelievable response. “Holy _shit!”_ he gasped, shocked and turned on and titillated and and and, “Oh my God, you can’t just say things like that,” Billy pleaded, grabbing at Teddy’s wide shoulders and holding on for dear life. “You can’t just be this hot. I’ll die. You’ll like totally kill me, God, fuck, death by hot. _Teddy_.”

Teddy gave a husky laugh. “Sorry,” he said, sounding anything but, “but I ain’t taking it back. You want that, don’t you?” he added, voice pitching—if possible—lower. Hotter. His blue eyes were nearly black with want. “You want me to lay you back and rip off the rest of those clothes—to touch you and kiss you and mark your skin and _come_ across your…”

Billy keened, nearly bucking off the cradle of his thighs.

“…okay, yeah,” Teddy said, sounding wonderfully smug. “I reckon that you do.”

He didn’t have a comeback for that. He didn’t have _words_ for that. All he had was this crazy desire to start shedding clothes as fast as he could in the hopes that Teddy would be true to his word, because just the image of that—of him lying sprawled across the grass, arching up and achingly hard, covered in stripes of Teddy’s… Of…—was enough to drive him _crazy_. He caught Teddy’s mouth in a quick, brutal kiss, moaning against his lips before suddenly climbing to his feet.

Billy swayed, legs trembling, and Teddy caught his waist. “You okay?” Teddy murmured.

He didn’t have words for that. He didn’t have brainpower left to scramble them together. Instead, Billy reached down to hook his thumbs into the wide-open waist of his jeans and shove them off his hips. They fell with a quiet _whump_ , boxers tangled with them, leaving him exposed to the cool Montana night air—cock full and flushed red and slick at the tip, just waiting for more.

Teddy let out a slow breath, eyes raking up and down his body. He curled his hands around Billy’s hips again, thumbnails tracing over the sharp relief of his hipbones. Teasing teasing, always teasing, drawing a breathless shudder from him. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Teddy said in a near-reverent whisper. He leaned it (Billy tensing in response, entire body clenched tight like a fist) and pressed his lips to the concave skin stretched tight over his stomach…then down down, tongue trailing slick paths to the seam between body and thigh.

Billy bit his bottom lip, carefully stepping out of his jeans-and-boxers and kicking them aside. He’d never felt more naked in his life, more open and vulnerable and _powerful_ as he slid trembling fingers into Teddy’s hair and held on tight. Watching that golden head bow over his skin, so close, _so close_ , kept stealing the breath from his lungs. Feeling the hot gusts of air over his sensitized skin was like some kind of torture, and he wanted to beg for more even as he felt a gut-clench relief that Teddy was taking his time, was letting him reacclimatize, was—

He cried out, sharp, high, _loud_ when Teddy’s tongue brushed the head of his cock, sudden scalding heat so good so good so fucking good his knees gave out. He pitched forward—would have fallen if Teddy didn’t have such a tight grip of his hips. As it was, Billy had to scrabble at Teddy’s shoulders, fingers digging into muscle as his back bowed forward, head down and eyes squeezing shut.

He’d imagined this so many times. He’d _wanted_ this so much, lying in bed and fisting his cock, picturing lips, tongue, teeth. None of it, nothing, was anything like the reality. Teddy’s breath gusting in irregular pants; Teddy’s thumbs brushing over the seam of his thighs; Teddy’s strength the only thing keeping him standing and Teddy’s tongue swirling, dipping, tasting, testing.

It was, it, just—Billy keened, hips pushing impulsively forward. The glide of his cock into Teddy’s mouth was, fuck, incredible; impossible. Impossibly _good_ , cockhead dragging against the soft give of his tongue. His toes curled against the blanket and he had to bite his bottom lip to keep from crying out—only then remembering, suddenly, that it didn’t matter if he cried out. There was no one there to hear him.

Just Teddy.

Just—

“ _God_ ,” Billy cried, loud. Then, louder, because it felt _that good_ : “Fuck, God, Teddy, _please_.”

His voice seemed to carry across the valley floor. Several yards away, Inigo nickered and, much closer, Teddy moaned, urging Billy’s hips forward; urging him to thrust into his mouth.

The idea of that, the mere hint of a promise, was overwhelming. Billy choked out a gasp and surged forward—only to freeze, barely managing to stand in place as Teddy reflexively pulled back, coughing. Shit, choking.

“Sorry!” Billy said. He dropped his hands to catch Teddy’s, tugging them away from their iron-tight grip so he could fall gracelessly to his knees before the other boy, searching out his face. “Sorry, sorry, I thought…”

But Teddy was already shaking his head, cheeks flushed bright in the darkness. “No,” he said, voice impossibly husky. “No, I wanted you to. I just… You know. Wasn’t really sure of my limits.”

“Oh,” Billy said. Then, hesitatingly, “So, um. Have you ever…?”

“Sort of,” Teddy said. “No. Yes. It’s…no,” he finished on with a laugh. He brushed back his bangs, looking adorably flustered, and Billy found himself grinning— _charmed_. Charmed and turned on and so in love he didn’t know what to do with himself. “You know how it is.”

Billy snorted. “Uh, _yeah_ ,” he said, gesturing at himself. “I obviously know how that is.” _But what about Gael…_ he wanted to ask; didn’t dare. Not now. Not when things had been going so good. “I mean, look at me,” Billy said instead, going for self-deprecating.

Teddy reached up to cup his face, calloused palm rasping over his skin. “Yeah,” he said, voice pitching lower. “I am.”

God, it was unfair how wonderful he was. Billy melted against him, half-in his lap, heart racing like a wild thing in his chest. “You were created in a lab, weren’t you?” he murmured, tipping his head until their foreheads rested together. Their breaths—still coming fast, still half-panting, fire briefly controlled but hardly extinguished—mingled hot and damp. He swore he could hear Teddy’s heart racing too, galloping like one of his horses. “Some _hot cowboy fantasy_ lab, with the perfect face and perfect body and perfect brain and perfect sense of dorky humor and—”

“Hey,” Teddy protested, laughing; he slid his hand around to the back of Billy’s neck, fingers digging into the tense muscle there.

Billy kept going. “—and _perfect hot lines,_ like, totally plucked from a porno or something.”

“Excuse me,” Teddy said, feigning offense, “at least a good half of them are stolen from fancypants erotica.”

Billy pulled back, arching a brow, but before he could think to ask, Teddy was—

Teddy was reaching down and curling his free hand around his cock again, squeezing. And just like that, the brief lull was over and everything inside Billy was flaring into new conflagration. He made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, pushing greedily up into that tight grip. That perfect, perfect grip, like Teddy could read exactly what he needed in a single touch.

“Crap,” he breathed, hips rucked up—pushing into the grip again. He’d already come this way, but oh God, he could come again. So easy. _So_ easy. Everything about Teddy was egging him on, making him want it more, making him, just, _need_.

And there was one thing he needed more than anything.

“Please,” Billy managed, reaching up to drag his fingers through Teddy’s hair, then down to his shoulders, the waist of his jeans. He fumbled with the button, fingers made useless, but he just kept going—kept trying to wrest them open, needing to see all of Teddy. All that golden skin, all those muscles, all the little secrets hidden by denim and plaid; all _his_.

Teddy made a strangled noise, grip tightening around him—almost tight enough to hurt—stroking down his aching length once. He was so hard it was an actual ache, but he didn’t let himself give in and thrust up into the fuckyeahperfect grip. Instead, he yanked hard at Teddy’s jeans, giving a growl of triumph when he _finally_ managed to wrest them open.

“Billy,” Teddy gasped.

“I want to see you,” Billy begged. He pushed at the zip, feeling Teddy hard against his fingertips, wanting his hand around him too. Wanting to, to, to press against skin and feel the drag of his cock, to have his heaving stomach painted with streaks of precome. “Please, I just, I want to see you.”

Teddy wet his lips, leaning in for a sloppy, _hot_ , kiss. It was all tongues and teeth, dirty in the best kind of way, and nearly enough to distract him from his goal. But then Teddy was letting go of him with one final squeeze and grabbing for the hem of his jeans—hooking his thumbs into the waistband.

Then pausing.

Leaning back onto his heels.

Letting Billy _watch_.

Teddy had a natural showmanship to him. Whether it came from working at a dude ranch, where half his job was being the perfect cowboy for people like Billy, or whether it was just his natural charisma bubbling up to the surface—or whether, impossibly, it was something about having _Billy’s_ eyes on him that brought him to full technicolor life—Teddy seemed to find that perfect groove between being natural and being performative and being so mind-bendingly hot Billy could barely stand it. His hips lifted just the tiniest bit, just enough for the bulge of his trapped erection to be painfully obvious, and holy fuck but the sight made Billy’s mouth literally _water_.

“Unfair,” Billy murmured, sitting back on his own heels and watching. He reached down almost absently, fingers curling around the base of his cock and giving a squeeze—keeping himself in control as Teddy arched in a sinuous bow and tugged his jeans down _just_ a little more.

_Just_ a little more.

_Just_ a…

Billy groaned. “ _Really_ freaking _unfair_ ,” he said, even as he drank Teddy in. The slow downward creep of his jeans was revealing a golden trail of hair against a toned stomach. Billy wanted nothing more than to press his lips to that little happy trail, to nose his way down along it, filling his lungs with the musky scent of sweat and horseflesh and hay and _want_. He bit his lower lip to strangle back a desperate noise, stroking himself once roughly.

Teddy’s eyes dropped to Billy’s hand, cheeks flushing bright with color. He pushed his jeans down another inch. “God, look at you,” Teddy said, voice a strangled drawl.

“Look at _me?_ ” Billy demanded, stroking again, coming alight at the way Teddy hissed a breath between his teeth. So that’s what power felt like? “Look at _you_. You’re seriously going to drive me nuts here, Teddy. You’re so—” He didn’t get a chance to finish (couldn’t find the words, brain derailing in a seismic shift) as Teddy rocked back on his heels and pushed his jeans down his thighs and off his legs in a graceful move that spoke of years of physical training, of perfect balance, of athleticism and showmanship and all the things Billy was lacking, but _hoo boy_ , who cared, because those damn jeans were being tossed aside and who’d have thought Teddy went completely bare beneath them?

His cock bobbed with the motion, thick and flushed and gorgeously hard, the very tip glistening with drops of precome as if, somehow, he was just as turned on as Billy. As if, somehow, he wanted this almost as much.

“Oh,” Billy breathed, staring. And then, when Teddy shucked the rest of his clothes in a ripple of golden muscles: “ _Oh_.” Because never in his life had he seen anyone like Teddy. Never in his life had he _met_ anyone this special, this gorgeous, this shyly sweet, looking at Billy from beneath his lashes as if there was any question about how Billy would feel. The blue of Teddy’s eyes was the brightest point in all of Montana, and Billy barely even registered he was moving seconds before he tumbled into Teddy’s arms—graceless and eager and seeking his mouth with single-minded focus, suddenly needing to be kissing him more than he needed to breathe.

Teddy caught him against his body, and they were kissing—hard, hot, graceless and yet somehow perfect. Hungry enough that it felt like immolating from the inside out, bodies—fuck—fuck—grinding together, naked. All that _skin_ rocking against his was driving Billy crazy; the rasp of hair, the drag of Teddy’s cock, the urgency building as Teddy’s big hands moved restlessly over his body.

He had plans; he had so many plans. He wanted to get his hands on Teddy. He wanted to get his _mouth_ on Teddy. He wanted Teddy to push him back and, and touch him in places he’d never been touched, but inexperience was overwhelming him— _Teddy_ was overwhelming him—and it was all Billy could do to hold on and kiss back with every part of him.

Tongues twining, slicking, going deep and claiming in a way that shook him to his core. He hitched up, hips restlessly bucking, driving against Teddy’s with a shaken moan. _Yes yes yes_. “Teddy,” he cried into Teddy’s mouth, scoring his nails across those big shoulders.

Teddy made a formless noise in response, gently, urgently, bearing him down across the blanket. They overshot by a few inches, grass cool against Billy’s shoulders, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t care—not when Teddy was settling in the valley of his thighs, not when he was moving over him with unsteady thrusts, not when their cocks where grinding together and their bodies were giving off sparks and the whole wide world was watching, stars breathless and bright.

Billy tangled his fingers in Teddy’s hair and kissed him like his life depended on it, losing himself in the embrace, whole body tightening second by second. He dug his heels into the ground and lifted up as if he could force their bodies to meld—then, gasping into Teddy’s mouth, shuddered when one big hand grabbed his thigh and dragged it up, up, around that steadily rocking waist.

_Yes, yes, fuck, yes_ , he thought, other leg sliding around Teddy’s thighs, gripping him tight. He could feel the heat of Teddy’s cockhead, the steady brush of precome, the utter madness of their need as they thrust mindlessly together, racing toward some unknown point, toward—

Toward—

“I’m!” Billy gasped, breaking the kiss. He let his head fall back, _writhing_ beneath Teddy, so close it was driving him insane.

Teddy just moaned in response, kissing messily across his jaw and down his neck, sucking red marks just below where his shirt would hide—teeth scoring as if Teddy couldn’t quite control the urge to bite even as his madly thrusting hips began to stutter, quake. “Billy,” he said, almost a growl. “ _Billy_.”

And then, _then_ , scalding heat spreading between them, slick across Billy’s stomach, his cock. Teddy sucked in a breath, hips stuttering wildly, and Billy stared up with awed shock as Teddy’s face scrunched up and he _came_ , came all over him, wet heat spreading between them with each erratic jerk of his hips.

His cheeks were flushed red and his mouth was open on a silent cry and everything about him was more perfect than Billy could have ever imagined—and whether it was that or the memory of Teddy’s words ( _I want to see what you look like covered in my come_ ) or the drag of their hips, he couldn’t even begin to guess, but _something_ dragged him over the edge and he was coming too with a serrated cry. Loud, _loud_ , loud enough to echo off the mountains themselves.

It was a shock to the system—everything whiting out around the edges and only Teddy, _Teddy_ , clear. Those blue eyes were on him, wide and beautiful and, and, and it suddenly seemed so very wrong to realize this was it for them. This was the only time he’d be allowed to have this. Their summer romance was over just as it was beginning, and the _unfairness_ of that made him cling to Teddy’s shoulders even as his body shuddered in the last aftershocks of orgasm.

_I want_ , Billy thought, meeting Teddy’s eyes with a tremulous breath. _I want, I want…I need. I…_

_Love_.

“Hey,” Teddy said, low and soothing, as if he could read the fracture of Billy’s heart in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together and gently dragging his knuckles across his jaw. The soft _rasp rasp_ underscored the heaving pants of their breaths; all around them, the world seemed simultaneously too-big and too-silent, as if all the stars in that great big sky were straining to listen in. “Hey, hey, _Billy_ , it’s— Are you--?”

_Okay_ , he seemed to be trying to ask, worry gathering between his brows, and it wasn’t fair, it _wasn’t_ —but it also wouldn’t be fair to allow loss to taint this moment between them. To steal the pure joy of his first time (out here in the arms of his cowboy) and paint it with strains of melancholy.

Billy reached up to drag his fingers through Teddy’s hair, tugging lightly. He smiled—despite a sudden urge to cry, knowing that this time tomorrow all this would be over; knowing that he’d _lied_ to have even this much—and pressed their foreheads together. “My brain is still coming online,” he teased, keeping his tone deliberately light. “I think you gave my body a hard reboot there. Holy cow.”

Teddy curled one big hand around his wrist, thumb strumming across his racing pulse—but he didn’t try to push him for the truth. Instead, he brushed their lips together in the softest of kisses, lips fitting against Billy’s as if they were made to be there. As if all Billy’s life had been pointing him toward this place, this boy, this _connection_.

He shuddered, surging up into the kiss, kissing _back_.

But Teddy kept it so, so very soft—gentle—breaths mingling as he kissed Billy with infinite care. When he pulled back to look at him again, he was smiling. “Systems online again?” he asked.

Billy shivered. “Uh, almost,” he said, straining up for another kiss. He just couldn’t help it; he wanted Teddy’s mouth on his for as long as he could manage it. The thought of leaving—of climbing into the back seat of his parents’ car and driving away from this place, this boy, this feeling—was crumbling away inside of him, making him feel like his heart was in freefall. Teddy was the only thing keeping him steady. Those lips against his, the soft brush of tongue, the slow unspooling of heat that could be stoked into something hotter if either of them wanted…

He wanted to bundle it all up to take back with him. He wanted to hold on just as tight as he could manage.

Finally, slowly, Teddy pulled back again. He kissed between Billy’s brows, then his cheeks, then the point of his chin before sitting up— _gorgeous_ in the moonlight, and somehow vulnerable. Billy immediately sat up too, hands sliding across Teddy’s skin and drawing out another crooked smile, uncertain what to make of the quicksilver shifts of their moods. Teddy looked— He looked worried, and serious, and _shy_. Like there was something at the tip of his tongue, swallowed back again and again before he could say a word.

_I wonder if he knows_ , Billy thought, fingertips learning the shape of the other boy, like braille. _If he can sense this is all coming to an end._

“Here,” Teddy said, leaning forward. He snagged his handkerchief from the back pocket of his discarded jeans, wiping himself clean before handing the kerchief to Billy. “Didn’t think to bring any, uh, anything else, so I reckon this’ll have to do.”

“Thanks,” he murmured, holding the kerchief. Billy looked down at himself—at the proof of what they’d done smeared across his belly—and for a moment, he hesitated. For a crazy half-second, he considered just staying like this, just letting the come dry on his skin and, like, wearing it all the way back to New York, like some kind of kinky-ass souvenir.

But thankfully common sense kicked in the next moment and he laughed, mopping himself up awkwardly. Because _wow_ , there was weird and then there was _weird_ , and he was pretty sure climbing into his parent’s car next to his little brothers _still covered in cowboy spunk_ was pretty high up there on the list of worst ideas ever.

Teddy starting rooting around while Billy got himself cleaned up, tidying up their little campsite with impressive efficiency. By the time Billy awkwardly pushed the handkerchief aside (weighted down by a rock so it didn’t go flying away on the next breeze like the worst kind of Forrest Gump outro of all time) and crawled up the blanket toward Teddy, the fire had been safely banked and their blanket had been turned into a cozy-looking bed.

Well. As cozy-looking as piles of blankets and makeshift pillows on the hard ground could be, but, Billy mused, there was a naked cowboy grinning welcome at him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Howdy,” Billy said, crawling right into Teddy’s arms.

Teddy snagged him around the waist and hauled him even closer, tucked against the curve of his body. “Howdy,” he teased, pressing his lips to Billy’s temple. The slide of their bodies sent a spark of pleasure dancing down Billy’s spine, and he shivered—then yawned. Man, but it had been a long, exhausting day. “You tired?”

“A little,” Billy admitted. He closed his eyes, then jerked them open with a yelp with Teddy rolled down, dragging Billy with him. The whole world spun, stars a blur overhead…until he was lying on his back sprawled across the makeshift bed, Teddy a broad, grinning presence over him. When he shifted, their bare legs dragged together, making him shiver. “So if you think I’ll be able to _sleep_ with you propped up on top of me…” Billy grumbled, lips twitching at the corners.

Teddy laughed and leaned in, kissing the curve of his neck before nuzzling up to his ear. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t realize you needed your space.” He rolled over, settling in next to Billy—just enough space between them that they were no longer touching.

Billy frowned up at the stars…and inchwormed closer, nudging back against the curve of Teddy’s side. Teddy looked down at him with a teasingly arched brow and Billy shrugged. “I got used to your stupid body in my stupid space,” he side—laughing when Teddy caught him around the waist and hauled him close again, this time _Billy_ half-sprawled on top of _Teddy_. It should have been uncomfortable, but when he laid his head on Teddy’s shoulder, he found it to be the perfect pillow.

Or if not…well. It wasn’t as if he wanted to waste this final night by _sleeping_ anyway.

They settled in together as the low fire popped and spat sparks toward the sky. The brook ran by with a musical hush, and somewhere in the distance, Inigo shook his mane and whinnied. Laying curled in Teddy’s arms, staring up at that impossibly huge sky, Billy felt as if he were floating in the middle of an ocean—an ocean dotted with light, as if a million iridescent jellyfish floated just beneath the surface. As if…

As if he were lost at sea, adrift, and he couldn’t bring himself to be afraid.

“I’m glad I’m here,” Billy whispered, reaching out blindly.

Teddy caught his seeking hand, threading their fingers together. “I’m glad I’m here with you,” he said, voice just as low. Then: “Tomorrow morning, I… I want to show you something. If that’s okay?”

He didn’t turn his head, didn’t cut his gaze away from the blanket of stars—but he squeezed Teddy’s fingers in response, warm inside despite the breeze. “Of course,” he said. Then, because curiosity was his downfall and he just _couldn’t_ leave the moment alone: “…what do you want to show me?”

Teddy didn’t answer at first. In fact, Teddy didn’t answer for so long that Billy began to think that he wouldn’t—that maybe he’d already drifted off to sleep, or hadn’t heard. But then, just as Billy began to let his own eyes unfocus and his thoughts drift, Teddy said (so quiet he almost missed it): “My mama’s grave.”

Billy closed his eyes, heart clenching in reflexive empathy. He started to rise up onto his elbow to look at Teddy, but Teddy tightened his hold on him, keeping him down—keeping their gazes from meeting. So instead, Billy squeezed his fingers and said, as fiercely as he could, “ _Of course_. Of course I want to go—I want—” He stumbled over the fervent words, uncertain, before settling on, “Of course I want to meet her, Teddy.”

Teddy didn’t answer—didn’t seem able to answer. Instead, he just dragged Billy even tighter against him, pressing his face into the curve of his neck, balled up around him in a protective (defensive?) posture. He was surrounding Billy, warm and vital and all around him, and God, but it was the easiest thing in the world to wrap around Teddy in return and hold on _tight_.

_If I could_ , he thought desperately, _if I could just think of a way, I’d never let you go_.

And, whispered against his skin, each hot gust of breath rustling the hair at his temples, Teddy murmured low low low, “I love you. I love you. I shouldn’t, but I love you,” over and over and over again, like a mantra.

Billy clung just a little tighter, touched that Teddy was willing to invite him so deep into his secret inner life (was willing to let him meet his _mother_ ), aware that something deeper and darker was going on in the other boy’s head even as he held him close…and knowing, above that, above everything, that their time together was rapidly running out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PLEASE NOTE!** If you are triggered by talk of sexual assault or the loss of a parent, please skip to the warning at the end for details.

Teddy woke slow and sweet, lulled out of dreams by the shush of the brook, the soft glow of sunlight against his lids, and the rhythmic warmth of a breath across his cheek. Somewhere nearby, Inigo stamped his hoof and nickered—sensing, in that way he always had, Teddy drifting slowly awake.

 _Oh_ , he thought, heart giving a reflexive lurch. Just that; just _oh_ over and over again, as he slowly dissolved into the perfect joy of the moment.

Curled in his arms, Billy gave a muffled sigh and sank even further into sleep, burrowing along the crook of Teddy’s body. He was blissfully unaware of the seismic shifts in Teddy’s world—of the way he made his heart twist in his chest. Just by being there, curled close, fingers tangled around the shirt Teddy had re-donned against the chill. Billy’s hair was an impossible dark snarl and his lips were parted on each breath. In the rosy light of dawn, he looked like something Teddy had dreamed up for himself. Some perfect world where he had a perfect life and a perfect…

 _This_. Just this. Fire banked and wind slowly picking up, filling his lungs with the wild scent of the mountain and warm skin.

Teddy turned his face, nosing gently against Billy’s temple. “Hey,” he murmured—low. Low and rough and throaty, wishing he could leave Billy sleeping even as he wanted nothing more than to nudge him awake and see those eyes looking up at him. The gravesite wasn’t far, but they needed to keep an eye on the time if they wanted to get Billy back for breakfast. And maybe…maybe if he was careful, and saw Billy safely to his door, his parents would offer to let him join them in thanks. Maybe he’d get to slide into a chair across from Billy’s brothers and try to ignore the heat creeping up his cheeks as Billy settled just a few inches to his right, and the whole family talked about…whatever families talked about…and it would all be so _good_ and _right_ and—

He pressed a kiss to Billy’s jaw, then up to the faint pucker between his brows, pushing aside all those silly little fantasies. There was no point giving them time to breathe now. Not when there was the sun to race.

“Hey,” Teddy said again, kissing across Billy’s cheeks, down to the sharp point of his chin. He slid a work-rough hand under Billy’s shirt (pulled on inside-out in the dark) and pressed his fingers to the pale skin of his stomach. Teddy could feel muscles jumping beneath his fingers, skin prickling with gooseflesh as Billy shivered and lifted his face for a real kiss—eyes remaining stubbornly shut.

Teddy laughed and gave him his kiss anyway. “Come on,” he said, scratching his nails lightly across Billy’s skin. “Time to shake a leg.”

“I’ll shake your leg,” Billy muttered. He tried to turn on his side, burrowing deeper against Teddy, and sighed in protest when Teddy sat up. The sky was a pale violet, bruised and beautiful as it shaded to pinks and golds. The far horizon glowed with early light, and he thought with a crooked smile:

 _Today’s gonna be a good day_.

Billy pinched his hip.

“Hey now,” Teddy laughed, squirming around so he could look at him. Billy was sprawled across the blanket, watching him from beneath a dark fan of lashes. His shirt had been left rucked up, and his jeans rode low on his hips, revealing a tempting crescent of skin. A reddened bruise was visible on one sharp hipbone, and Teddy blushed even as he swayed forward, grinning—remembering the kiss that had left its mark.

God, but he wanted to do it again. And again, and again, and again, losing himself in Billy for as long as he was able. “I see how it is,” he said instead, pressing a hand next to Billy’s head so he could loom over him. “You want to laze about all morning while _I_ do all the work.”

“I’m not opposed to you lazing about with me,” Billy countered. He slid his hands up Teddy’s chest, mapping his muscles with growing heat in his gaze. “You know, if you wanted to pull up a bit of ground and give it a go.”

“I have the feeling that’s not the only thing you want me to give a go,” Teddy teased, leaning in to brush their lips together. It was such a perfect moment—actual birdsong bursting overhead, leaves rustling with the wind—that he couldn’t help but sink into it, allowing Billy to tease him into a deeper embrace.

One hand slid up into Teddy’s hair, tangling tight. Billy arched up against him with a small noise, lips parting beneath Teddy’s, welcoming— _hot_ with the first brush of his tongue. Better than anything Teddy could remember.

It would take so little to give in and just sink back into Billy. To lick deep into his mouth, slicking their tongues together, re-building the fire low in his belly that had never quite been banked. He pressed closer with a moan of his own, letting their hips rest together, just for a moment—rocking forward once as Billy sucked hungrily on his tongue, teasing at the root, pulling him into an already-familiar rhythm as his world narrowed down and his body lit like kindling and—

And—

And this was _not_ going to see them back to the lodge in anything like good time.

Teddy broke the kiss, shuddering at the obscenely _slick_ noise; at the way Billy’s breath caught on something mind-breakingly close to a whimper. “Wait, wait,” Teddy said, trying to pull away.

Billy tightened his grip on his hair, his other hand digging into Teddy’s shoulder. One leg curled around Teddy’s thighs as if he could pin him in place, and _oh_ , oh, when their hips pressed together like that, Teddy could almost swear he felt Billy’s half-hard cock snug against his thigh.

“Billy,” Teddy said, half-laughing, half-wanting.

“Nope,” Billy said, trying to swing his _other_ leg around Teddy’s thighs. “There’s no escape. Your face is stuck with my face now.”

“This is going to be real awkward when we finally make it back to the ranch,” Teddy said—and he had no idea what it was about that (the imagined embarrassment? The implied mention of his parents?) that made Billy let go and sit up, but he was wriggling away almost before the words were out of Teddy’s mouth.

“Um,” Teddy said, confused by the sudden shift if Billy’s mood. He sat up, rumpled and still-flushed, blinking at Billy’s back. “Did I say something wrong?”

Billy crawled up toward the edge of the blanket, beginning to gather his clothes. “Nope,” he said again, though this time he didn’t sound anywhere near as relaxed. “I just realized that we really do need to get a move on if we don’t want to be late.”

 _You’re lying_ , Teddy thought, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t dare say it. What if he was wrong? What if he was reading Billy all wrong? They hadn’t known each other very long—even though his gut was telling him one thing, he couldn’t just assume it was the truth. “Okay,” he said instead, rising. Letting it go.

They got ready in silence, cleaning up in the stream and putting their clothes to rights before beginning to break down camp. It went pretty quickly, all told; Teddy had been out on the range so often than he could probably do it in his sleep, body leading him through the steps even as his mind spiraled a million miles away.

By the time everything was put to rights and Inigo was saddled up again, the sun was creeping up above the mountains. A cool wind still blew, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine and scrub, but he could feel the  heat of the day beginning to settle in. It beat against his back as he tightened Inigo’s saddle one final time, rubbing a soothing hand across his withers as Billy hovered awkwardly just a few steps behind.

The silence had stretched so long that it felt odd to break it. “Ready?” Teddy said, turning. He wished he could rewind the morning back back back to the sweetness of waking up with Billy curled in his arms—bring back the silly, ineffable warmth that spread through his belly. Figure out what the fuck he’d _said_ to make it all go crashing head-first into the nearest tree.

Billy rubbed the back of his neck, gaze downcast, as if he were wishing the same thing. “Yeah,” he said. He glanced up, metting Teddy’s eyes, and there was a…something shared between them. That spark of attraction, yeah, and affection too, but something _more_. Something bigger and sadder and heavier than seemed right.

And, because he couldn’t not offer, Teddy said: “So, uh, you know—we don’t _have_ to swing by the, uh, grave if you don’t want to.”  Because that had to be it, right? Billy’d had time to realize exactly what it meant that Teddy wanted to show it to him, and he was freaking out because he didn’t want things to get that serious and—

Teddy blinked, baffled, as Billy all but flung himself into his arms. “No no no no no,” he said quickly—almost too fast to be understood, the words blurring together. He thread his fingers through Teddy’s hair, holding on tight, staring up at him with a heartbreakingly earnest expression. “No, no, _no_. No, Teddy, I want—I mean, _yes,_ I want to go. I really, really want to go.”

“Are you—” he began.

Billy rocked up onto the balls of his feet and pressed their mouths together. The kiss was quick and firm and, somehow, hot; it shocked his body alive as it lingered.

Teddy made a low noise in the back of his throat, dropping his hands to Billy’s waist. He held on—thumbs brushing his hips lightly—as the kiss melted, lips parting, tongues brushing together in a slow, slick glide. He could taste Billy’s breath, could swallow every little sound he made as he stroked his tongue deep into the other boy’s mouth, letting the subtle eroticism build low in his gut.

They shivered together. Behind them, Inigo nickered and stamped a hoof.

Finally—finally—Billy broke the kiss. He dropped down from his tip-toes, breath leaving him in an uneven gust. His cheeks were pink, Teddy saw, and his ears had flushed bright red. He looked so fucking adorable he could hardly stand it.

“Um,” Billy said; his voice was husky enough to make Teddy shiver again. “We should probably get going if we don’t want to get distracted. Not that I’ve got anything against being distracted. You’re pretty…distracting. In general. You know?”

“Yeah,” Teddy said, smoothing his palms down Billy’s skinny hips, around to cup and sueeze his ass. He grinned at Billy’s yelp. “I reckon I know. All right, all right!” he added with a laugh, letting go at Billy’s faux-annoyed swat. He was at least semi-hard and pretty sure Billy was somewhere close to the same, but they _did_ need to get going if they didn’t want to be late. Billy’s parents would be looking for him at the breakfast table. “Here,” he added, leaning down and threading his hands together, offering Billy a leg up.

Billy shook his head. “I can use a stirrup, you know,” he said, even as he slid his foot into Teddy’s hands and let Teddy hoist him up onto Inigo’s back—one arm pinwheeling madly before grabbing a fistful of Teddy’s plaid, as if he was in danger of toppling over at any second. (As if Teddy would ever let him.)

“I’ve seen you around the horses, Billy,” Teddy pointed out. He checked to make sure Billy was comfortably seated before sliding his foot in the stirrup and hoisting himself up behind the other boy. It was a smooth, practiced motion, trained into him after years of riding; Inigo barely moved an inch. “I’m pretty sure you _can’t_.”

Billy elbowed him in the ribs and Teddy laughed, hooking his chin over Billy’s shoulder. It felt good to have the other boy in front of him, melting willingly against the solid wall of his chest. It felt even better to reach around Billy to grab the reins, enfolding him in an embrace.

He wished, he _wished_ , they could have this forever. But hell, at least they had the rest of the summer.

“You all settled?” Teddy asked.

“Nope,” Billy said, craning his neck back to catch Teddy’s mouth in another—shorter—kiss. It was little more than a buss of lips on lips, but even still, the contact sent shockwaves through him. “All right,” Billy added as the kiss broke. He smiled up at Teddy, so gorgeous it was all he could do not to kiss him again. (And kiss him and kiss him and…) “ _Now_ I’m ready.”

He had to clear his throat, to refocus. “All right,” Teddy said, still dizzy with residual shockwaves of joy. He dug his heels into Inigo’s sides and said, “ _Hyah!_ ”, heart giving its usual lurch as powerful muscles tensed beneath his thighs.

They took off like a shot, Inigo _racing_ within a few quick steps. Billy sucked in a breath, but Teddy just pressed his lips to the other boy’s neck and held on, letting Inigo have his head. It was so freeing, to race across the beautiful Montana landscape. Birds rose in trills of alarm at their advance, the tempo of hooves striking dirt working its way up Teddy’s body, and the rising sun felt so _good_ across his shoulders: hot and comforting as it promised an endless summer. Just him and Billy and Inigo, crossing the wide valley floor beneath the shadow of the Lonely Mountain forever, for always.

 _There’s no such thing as forever_ , a part of Teddy whispered, but with the wind whipping past and Billy’s hands curled around his forearms, holding on for dear life, it was easy to beat back demons of doubt.

He’d come to his mother’s grave so often that once they reached a certain point, Inigo all but lead himself. Water rose around them in a prismatic fall, each drop seeming to suspend in the moment, Matrix-style. Billy gave a laugh and turned his face away, and Teddy gripped the reins in one hand, wrapping his other arm tight around the other boy’s waist. He pressed his palm flat against Billy’s stomach and hugged him against the shell of his body, as if he could somehow merge the two of them together. As if, despite being from two very different worlds—despite being leagues apart—they were meant to be one.

Sentimental claptrap. It didn’t mean a part of him couldn’t believe every word.

Billy, ironically, spotted the cairn before Teddy did. He pointed (one hand still gripped tight to Teddy, knuckles white) across the flowing green field, shouting against the wind: “What’s that?”

“Why don’t we show you?” Teddy called back. The words were snatched out of his mouth the moment they came tumbling out, lost to speed and time.

Billy half-twisted around, brows puckered. “What?” he called; he hadn’t heard.

Teddy just grinned. “I’m so stupid in love with you,” he said, the words lost again, stolen by the breeze.

“What? I didn’t get that, Teddy,” Billy said, yelling to be heard himself. Teddy just squeezed that one arm tighter around his middle, holding him close as Inigo unerringly veered toward the cairn. He started to slow by degrees, easing from a gallop into a canter, a canter into a trot. Finally, Inigo clopped to a standstill, shaking his dark mane out and whickering his own greeting.

Billy dragged his fingers through his wild, wind-blown hair. “Holy cow, I think I left a part of me somewhere on the way up here,” he said. “I’ve never gone that fast before.”

“Inigo’s the quickest around,” Teddy said loyally. He shifted his weight, swinging one leg over Inigo’s rump before dropping lightly to his feet. Standing on solid ground, Billy still firmly seated, those dark snarls of hair were gilded by the sun. It stood midway up the morning sky, giving Billy a medieval crown of gold; making him look like the prince in some kind of fairy story.

Impulsively, breathlessly, Teddy caught Billy’s hand and pressed a kiss to it. Inigo shifted his weight in impatience at their silly human displays and Billy blushed a brilliant red.

“What was that for?” he asked. Then, seeming to get it, he gave a bark of laughter. “Wait, I think I’ve seen this poster. Though shouldn’t I be leaning over like this?” He started to lean down and to the side, lilting dangerously, before Teddy could stop him.

Almost immediately, Inigo gave an indignant snort and stamped a hoof. Billy unbalanced, arms pinwheeling as he listed far too far, one leg sliding out of the stirrup as he slid across the saddle. If Teddy hadn’t been there, he would have gone toppling ass over teakettle into an ungainly sprawl across the red soil; instead, Teddy caught Billy around the waist and spun him up and away from Inigo, using the momentum to hoist the other boy fully into his arms.

It was an awkward moment turned funnily, dizzyingly movie-perfect: birdsong bursting overhead, the valley wide open below the gentle roll of his mother’s overlook, Billy loose-limbed and gripping his shoulders as he lay sprawled bridal-style in Teddy’s arms. Eyes _huge_ in a mix of admiration and barely muffled hysteria.

Teddy smirked.

“ _Oh my God_ ,” Billy said, laughter shuddering beneath each word. “I, you, I—I… You know, that was so smooth, part of me’s half expecting you to break into song. Where are the swelling violins? Where are the panning cameras?”

“You want song, huh?” Teddy said, hoisting Billy up further into his arms.

Billy narrowed his eyes. “…I feel like I’m going to regret this, but sure, yeah: musical me.”

He didn’t bother fumbling for something appropriate. Wide, dizzy grin spreading across his face, Teddy gave a little spin (causing Billy to shriek a laugh and hold onto him all the tighter) and began a _very_ off-key, “ _Well, these boots were made for walkin’, and that’s just what they’ll do_ …”

“Oh my God,” Billy said again, muffling his laughter against the curve of Teddy’s neck.

“… _and one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you_.”

Inigo flicked his tail and wandered off, chomping absently at grass. Billy dug his fingers into Teddy’s hair and tugged, smile broad and bright against his skin, shoulders shaking. “Oh my God, Teddy,” he said, cracking up. “Never mind, I take it back; we are definitely not in a musical.”

“You sure?” Teddy teased. He turned his face to kiss Billy’s ear, then his temple, loving the way Billy flushed and laughed. Loving just _everything_ about this moment, this boy, this second chance he’d somehow been given, whether he deserved it or not. Even being let go from the Lonely Mountain had a bittersweet feeling of _justice_ to it. It had been a long, long time coming, and it was a relief to finally see this whole trial at an end.

Almost.

 _Almost_ at an end.

The thought was a sobering one. Teddy pressed his lips to Billy’s racing pulse, letting that thrum ground him as he squeezed Billy closer to the solid wall of his body…before slowly, carefully setting him to his feet. There was a part of him that wanted to put this off indefinitely—to sweep Billy back up onto Inigo and go cantering across the wide belly of Montana. Away, away, he was always fucking running _away_ , wasn’t he?

“Not today,” Teddy murmured.

Billy cocked his head, looking up at him. “Teddy?” he said, confused.

Teddy just shook his head and took Billy’s hand in his, gently squeezing his fingers. He gave a little tug. “Come on,” he said, drawing Billy across all too familiar rock and red dirt and bursts of wildflowers. He led the way up up up the little rolling hill that overlooked the valley below, spotting the juniper-covered cairn at the same moment Billy did.

Billy sucked in a quiet breath, letting it all out in a gust; he squeezed Teddy’s fingers, misunderstanding Teddy’s sudden solemnity.

He _could_ have explained that it wasn’t the pain of loss that had him slowing. He missed his mother more than he could say, but he’d had years to adjust to the constant ache in his chest. He hurt, yes, but it was a familiar hurt—it wasn’t what had him wanting to turn on his heel and _run_.

Little bits of rock and twig crunched beneath their shoes as Teddy led Billy up to the cairn that marked his mother’s grave. Billy was squeezing his fingers tight, trying to be as soothing as possible as Teddy stopped and rested his free hand atop the highest rock. It was warm beneath his palm—as warm as his mother had ever been—making him smile a little despite himself.

“So,” Teddy said, breaking the silence. A soft wind blew, rustling the climbing bracken of wild juniper; the air smelled of her favorite flowers. “Billy, I’d like you to meet my mom. She’d, uh…she’d really have liked you.”

“I would have liked her too,” Billy said, voice a little husky. He wet his lips, then inched closer, reaching out to brush his fingertips across the cairn—slowly, looking toward Teddy as he did so, as if seeking permission. “Especially if she was anything like you.”

“She was a hell of a lot better than me,” Teddy said. Then, because there really was no better segue to what he’d really come up here for: “Billy, I… I need to confess something to you. I need you to know about…me.”

Billy made a low noise, shifting closer. Teddy simply pulled back and let go, moving to the lip of the little knoll. He crouched down, one hand pressing against uncertain rock, before carefully sitting, his legs dangling over the edge. Billy moved to join him, uneasy. “You keep hinting about something that happened,” Billy said, settling next to him. There was less than a foot of distance between them, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. The sun stretched high and golden across the whole damn valley; the Lonely Mountain rose like some dark memory in the distance. “Something that makes you think you aren’t as amazing as you actually are.”

Teddy gave a rough half-laugh. “I’m glad you see me that way,” he admitted, “but it really _isn’t_ true. I’ve been— I did something terrible. Unforgivable. It’s my fault Gael hates me as much as he does, and it’s my fault our mothers are dead. _I_ did that.”

“No,” Billy soothed, immediately turning on his hip and reaching up to brush Teddy’s hair back.

Teddy (gently) caught his wrist before he could make contact. “Wait,” he said. “Billy. I… I haven’t really told anyone all of this before. I’ve never really gotten it off my chest in a way that I could, I don’t know, move on from. Everyone was just so damn _willing_ to make Gael the villain and me the saint and things moved on and I _didn’t_ …”

He sighed, letting go and raking his own fingers through his hair sharply. “A couple of people know most of the story,” he said. “Gael, of course. His father. Me. But even his dad’s too willing to let himself be _blind_ about what really… What I really…”

The words kept getting tangled up in his throat, choking him, and Teddy stared down into his lap with hot tears burning on his lashes. A part of him—a cowardly part—still wished he could rewind time. Get back on Inigo, get Billy in his arms, and go thundering out beneath the big blue sky.

But another felt…hurt, yes, but also the whisper of relief. He’d been carrying so much around in his head for so long, with only Gael looking at him with half the hatred he deserved. How good, how necessary, how fucking _freeing_ would it be to face the boy he could see himself loving the way Gael once loved him and _confess_ everything?

If he really wanted to move on from this place and not become a lonely ghost haunting its rolling hills and vales, he needed the relief of that confession.

“I want you to know,” Teddy said slowly, “that it’s okay if you don’t think of me the same way, after. I want you to know that whatever you feel, or want to say, or want to do, I’ll… Be okay with it. I think I’ll be more okay than I have been in years.”

Billy stubbornly reached down to take his hand, threading their fingers together tight when Teddy would have pulled away. “I don’t believe you’re half as bad as you’re making yourself out to be,” he said stubbornly. “And I _don’t_ believe you’re responsible for anyone’s death. Not on purpose.”

“Not on purpose,” Teddy agreed. At least there was that. “But I’m still the reason.”

“So what did you do?” Billy half-turned to him, baffled and open and accepting. Perhaps a little frustrated, too. Teddy could understand that; he was frustrated with himself, struggling to find the words he needed to start this confession. Billy was right—he’d spent so long edging around the corners of these memories that he no longer knew how to face them head-on. “You accidentally left a door or gate open and the animals stampeded? You didn’t gear up a horse as well as you should? What do you think you did that was so terrible you can’t just forgive yourself for it?”

Teddy took a breath. Held it. Let it out. Went straight for the heart of it. “I let Gael seduce me,” he said. “I let him think I wanted him back—loved him, maybe. And when we were found together, I…” _Fuck._ “I told them Gael had forced himself on me.”

Billy was silent; dumbstruck.

“I should start at the beginning,” Teddy said, pulling his hand away and digging the meat of his palms against his eyes. He couldn’t help but note that Billy all too easily let him go now. “I should… I.”

“You told people that…” Billy began slowly.

“That Gael forced himself on me,” Teddy finished. “He didn’t. He _didn’t_ , and both of us knew he didn’t, but they all believed me and not him because I—” Fuck fuck _fuck_. “Because I was supposedly the _good_ one. The good kid, the nice kid, the one who followed all the rules. I took advantage of how people saw him and how they saw me, and I made them think he’d do…that. All because I was too scared of how they’d look at me if they knew the truth.” He looked up, tears of shame hot on his lashes. “God, the way his mother looked at him.”

“But… _why_?”

Years ago, right after it happened, he wouldn’t have been able to answer that. The only benefit of living in this purgatory of his own making was it gave him plenty of time to _stew_ over what he’d done, to understand it even if no sane person could ever condone it. “I was young,” Teddy admitted, “really young, and not…certain…of myself yet. Of who I was and what I…wanted. What would feel okay and what just, just wouldn’t. But Gael made it seem so easy. He was older and he knew more than I did—he knew what he _wanted_. All I had to do was just play along and maybe he could help me figure out what I wanted too. So I let him kiss me. And I let him touch me. And I told him I loved him. But it felt all _wrong_. All along the way, it felt so wrong inside, and that just made me more frightened and more, I don’t know, drawn into myself. Like I wanted to call an end to it but didn’t know how—he was just _so certain_ we were meant to be together like that.”

“So he…did force you? A little?” Billy said, trying to piece it all together.

“ _No_ , Billy. I understood what he was asking, and I closed my eyes and took the leap. It’s my fault I didn’t know until too late that I didn’t actually want what he did. That I wasn’t _ready_. I was stupid and young and I hadn’t figured myself out yet, and the way he made me feel wasn’t good, but _I_ was good at pretending everything was fine—he had no reason to think it wasn’t until our mothers stumbled across us.”

Billy scrubbed at his own face this time. “Oh…God.”

“…we were in the stables.” Best to get it done with, all at once. “Late at night. In an empty stall. He was on top of me and I was—” Billy’s horrified expression was all he needed to change tracks. “I was crying and struggling to keep my face turned away so he wouldn’t see and hate me—when I heard a noise above us. I looked up and there they were. We’d knocked the shade from the lantern,” he added. “The light was shining, and they spotted it on the evening lock-up stroll they used to always take together. I never saw anyone looked so shocked in my life, and I was—scared, I guess. And I felt so wrong inside. In that moment, all I could think was that my mother would never be able to look at me the same way again. So I…”

He couldn’t go on—he just _couldn’t_. There was confession and then there was dragging both of them through the past, memories like briars digging bloody welts against his skin.

“It all got crazy fast. We separated, and Mom whisked me away, and I was still crying—I was so embarrassed and scared—and it all just tumbled out. It was so damn easy to lie, Billy. The worse thing I ever could have said, and it was _so_ damn easy.”

Billy didn’t answer this time.

“I don’t know exactly what happened after Mom got me calmed down and wrapped up in her bed, but when I woke up, she wasn’t there. The cabin looked like a hurricane had swept through it, half our stuff in boxes, and I could hear voices outside. It was Mom and _Gael’s_ mom. I felt so sick, so guilty, so scared still—worse now than before; I thought maybe my heart would pound right out of my body—but I managed to get up with the quilt still wrapped around me and head outside. I didn’t want Mom to fight with her best friend over me. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I just wanted to rewind time so I could take it all _back_ , maybe not be stupid and say yes when I wasn’t sure of…anything.”

Slowly, carefully, Billy reached out and covered Teddy’s hand with his own again. That gentle warmth was wholly unearned, but it broke through Teddy like a wave. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, soaking in the warmth. “So they were fighting?” Billy prompted, voice very quiet.

Teddy turned over his hand, almost unable to believe it when Billy willingly thread their fingers together. “No,” he said, just as quiet. “They weren’t fighting. Things might have gone differently if they were. I might have been able to come clean if they were.”

“I don’t understand.”

This was the worst part. This was why all these years, Gael was right to hate him—to push and push and push until Teddy _reacted_ , one way or the other. God knew he’d hate Gael if their situations were reversed. “Gael’s mom believed me. She’d come to _apologize_.”

He could still see her eyes if he closed his own. That look on her face. He’d been paralyzed before it, absolutely struck dumb with fear and gut-clench dread and building self-hatred. Even if he’d wanted to (and all these years later, he still wasn’t sure if he’d honestly wanted to—wasn’t that the worst of it?), he wouldn’t have been able to say anything as she took his hands in hers and apologized for what her son had done. As she said, something horrible in her eyes, _I’m so sorry, Teddy; I think some part of me always knew Gael had this in him._

Fuck.

He had to keep going—he had to keep pushing through—he couldn’t stop now.

“Everything went to hell from there. Gael’s father and his mother fought over what to do. I fought with my mother over…I just wanted it to all go away, so I tried to get them to back off, but they just thought I was trying to protect him. Mom fought with both of his parents, trying to give me what _I_ asked for, and it just…” He spread his hands helplessly, feeling that old tension coiled in his gut again. Feeling that helplessness. “It all came to a head when Gael finally got sick of waiting for me to do the right thing. He was supposed to stay in the main house far away from me, but he broke out in the middle of the night. He snuck into my room and woke me up with a hand over my mouth and this _look_ in his eyes.”

“Teddy,” Billy breathed.

“He didn’t have to threaten me—I went with him willingly. I remember the air felt heavy, thick; it was going to storm. The horses were restless in their stalls. We had cattle back then, a whole herd roaming where the horse pastures are now. They were lowing and wide-eyed as lightning forked just past the mountains, thunder echoing through the valley, the storm ready to break. I didn’t stop Gael at the first swing.”

“ _Teddy_.”

“Or the second, or the third. I _wanted_ him to hit me. I wanted to give him what he needed, and maybe—I don’t know, I guess I kept thinking that maybe this would force me to stop being such a coward. If I could stand there and take whatever he had to dish out, then maybe I could face our parents and tell them the whole fucking truth. The thing is…” He blew out a breath. “I didn’t realize that what he wanted most of all was for me to swing _back_. And he had no intention of stopping until I did.”

Billy made a low, torn noise in the back of his throat. He pushed forward, climbing into Teddy’s lap, wrapping his arms tight around his shoulders. One hand slid up into Teddy’s hair, holding tight, and it was so easy to let himself be drawn into Billy’s embrace—to accept the warmth, the fierce protective love he knew he didn’t deserve even now.

Forgiveness already given, from this most unlikely of sources.

Teddy pressed his forehead against Billy’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut. “I don’t know how long it went on for,” he murmured. “Everything took on this red-tinged haze. It was raining—hard—and the cattle were bellowing and I hurt everywhere, but it felt _good_ , too. I was lying in the mud, curled around each kick to the stomach, when I heard my mother’s voice. _Screaming_ something…I’m not sure what. It was like I was hearing things underwater. It’s all pretty hazy from there,” he admitted, looking up.

There were tears on Billy’s cheeks. Billy’s hands shook at he lifted them, thumbs brushing the tears Teddy hadn’t been aware _he’d_ been crying.

“There was shouting, and Gael was struggling against his own mother when she rushed in, hearing the commotion—he struck her. Mom was helping me up, but she lurched forward to help her friend as Gael hit her again, and again. He was big for his age, a lot bigger than me then, and almost taller than both of our mothers. And he was…lost. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ve thought about that moment a lot, and the thing is, I _don’t know_ whether Gael would have kept lashing out at them or whether he’d have let himself be calmed. But in the moment he looked like he was going to kill all three of us. So I…”

Teddy trailed off.

Billy kissed his cheeks, between his brows. “You opened the gate,” he said.

Thank God, _thank God_ for this boy. “Yeah,” he said, almost a whisper. “I couldn’t run for help. I could barely hobble over to the gate. I had six broken ribs,” Billy hissed in a shocked breath, “and everything was a red haze and Gael was swinging at my _mother_ , so I, I thought if I make a distraction, if I found a way to call down the cowboys and get their attention, he’d have to stop. It’d all have to stop. So I unlatched the gate and I swung it wide and I hoped some of the cows would see their chance and get out so the cowboys would come end this.”

“And instead,” Billy said quietly.

“...instead, the stampede,” Teddy said. “With the storm, and the fighting, and everything—it had them spooked, and they ran in a herd, and my mother…”

Billy cupped his face, gently brushing their lips together. “You don’t have to say it,” he murmured. With the cairn to their backs, casting its shadow across the warm grass, Teddy supposed he really didn’t.

“Gael ran,” Teddy said. “He saw them coming, and he ran just as fast as he could. I was pinned in place, protected between the gate and the rail, but unable to move, to do anything. I saw it happen. Mom died quickly,” he added, needing to get the very last of it out before he lost control of his voice. “Painlessly. At least, that’s what I let them tell me, after. Gael’s mom took a few days, but. We still lost her in the end. Gael blames himself for running instead of trying to help them get away. He blames himself for taking those swings at them beforehand, and maybe…I don’t know, disorienting them, hurting them, whatever. He blames himself now almost as much as he blames me, and we’ve been _stuck_ in this for so many years.”

“Oh, _Teddy_.”

Teddy curled his hands around Billy’s wrists, thumbs brushing across the thundering pulse again and again. “I told Gael’s father the whole truth, but no one else knows what happened—any of it. He kept me on, let me stay here with the horses and my mother. He was kind—kinder than I deserved. And Gael… Well. We’ve been making each other miserable for five years now. But it’s finally going to be over soon. It’s finally going to be—”

He broke over the words, the thought, the mingled anguish and relief at being cut free from this place. The big blue skies and rolling hills had become a part of him; his mother’s grave and the Lonely Mountain had become a part of him. Who would he be without it?

Billy wrapped around him with a soothing, throaty noise, pressing kisses against his temple as he pulled Teddy deeper into the warmth of his body. Teddy wrapped strong arms around the other boy’s middle and held on _tight_ , letting the tears come, letting the years of grief and shame lance out at last, at last. The confession burned in his gut, but already he felt lighter inside.

He knew he’d never forgive himself. He knew he didn’t _want_ to forgive himself. But maybe this was the first step in learning to live with who he’d been and who he’d become—letting go of that scared twelve-year-old kid so he could be the man his mother had always wanted him to be.

The thought made his eyes burn with fresh tears, but that was okay: Billy Kaplan, the unexpected gift this endless summer had given him, just wound tighter around him and murmured sweet and soft in his ear: “It’s okay, Teddy. It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go.”

And that, _that_ , made him think that maybe there was hope for him after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning**. In this chapter, Teddy admits to having under-aged sex before he was truly ready, and to falsely accusing Gael of forcing himself on him. He also admits to being accidentally responsible for his mother's death. If this is likely to trigger you, I'd recommend stopping once they reach the cairn.


	10. Chapter 10

They stayed there like that for…God, he had no idea. Time didn’t, couldn’t, mean much after all that Teddy had told him. It could have been hours, days, weeks— _whatever_. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the boy in his arms, holding on to the back of Billy’s shirt as if he were the last bit of land in a drowned world.

That shouldn’t have made him feel good. He _hated_ that a part of him thrilled at the way Teddy so obviously trusted him, but… But fuck, yeah, it _did_ feel good to have someone like Teddy Altman holding on to him so tight. Billy felt ten feet tall and powerful enough to leap those distant mountains, and all because this boy had placed his heart within the cradle of his hands.

It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It was—

_Incredible._

A part of him never wanted this moment to end.

Billy sifted his fingers through golden hair, holding Teddy against him for as long as he could. For as long as it took. Fine tremors still wracked Teddy’s body here and there, but for the most part, they had both gone still. Quiet. Soaking in the Montana sunshine and the soft intermittent breeze. The cairn ( _his mother’s grave_ , Billy thought, pressing his lips to Teddy’s temple) cast a long shadow over them, and each breath was filled with sun-warmed skin and the hint of ghost juniper.

The world felt terribly big around them. Silent except for the rustle of the wind through grass and the occasional stamp of Inigo’s hoof. Billy could all but count each thud of Teddy’s heart, slow and steady, slow and steady, seeming to grow louder with each passing second.

He pressed another kiss to Teddy’s temple, his brow, his lips, trying to calm him again. He couldn’t _imagine_ living with what Teddy had to, day after day. He couldn’t imagine facing Gael, facing Gael’s father, seeing the knowledge written in the sad lines bracketing their eyes as—

God, but Teddy’s pulse was _racing._

“It’s okay,” Billy murmured, cupping the back of his skull. He tried to keep his own voice low, gentle, completely out of his depth but doing his _best_. “Hey, hey, Teddy, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Teddy lifted his head, slowly blinking open his eyes. They were still faintly red-rimmed, but he wasn’t crying. He almost looked _peaceful_ , completely at odds with the ever-increasing thrum of his heartbeat. “What?” he said. Then, corner of his mouth kicking up into a smile, “I mean…thank you. I can’t tell you how good it feels to have finally gotten all that out in the open.”

“ _Good_ ,” Billy said, pleased but confused. He dropped a hand to Teddy’s chest, fingers spreading wide over his heart, but the tempo was off—each slow, steady beat pulsed against his fingers, perfectly echoing the contentment on Teddy’s face. “…huh.”

Teddy’s brows lifted. “Something wrong?” he asked—then suddenly looked up, over Billy’s shoulder. “Oh,” he said. “Riders are approaching.”

“Riders?” Billy twisted around, squinting against the sun and feeling like ten kinds of idiot when he spotted the distant-but-rapidly-growing trail of dust. He hadn’t been hearing Teddy’s heartbeat at all; no wonder Teddy had looked at him weird. “Oh, hey. Riders. Um. Think they’ll pass by here?” He shifted, suddenly awkward—his knees bracketing Teddy’s hips, fingers tangled up in him as if he wanted to cleave their bodies together.

Teddy studied the riders for a long minute, making thoughtful faces (which only made Billy want to lean down and catch his mouth in a series of slow, wet kisses; something about the purse of those lips was nigh irresistible) before reluctantly nodding. “Looks like they’re going to pass pretty close,” he sighed. He had to squint a little against the sun as he looked up at Billy, and even _then_ he was stupidly beautiful. “We should probably look respectable or we’ll get tagged as a couple of teens looking to swap spit way out in the wilderness.”

“But Teddy,” Billy said with faux-earnestness, batting his lashes best he could, “we _are_ a couple of teens looking to swap spit way out in the wilderness.”

Teddy laughed and swatted at him, and Billy just grinned back, chest filling up like a helium balloon. After everything, it felt _so good_ to make Teddy laugh.

_I did that_ , he thought, brushing a final kiss over Teddy’s lips before rolling off him. He sprawled across the grass instead, in the cool shade made by the cairn, letting that happiness keep him warm. _I made my boyfriend laugh._

That thought had him going still.

“Hey, Teddy?” Billy said, turning his head. Teddy was sitting cross-legged next to him, shielding his eyes so he could watch the riders pass, but he half-turned to look down at Billy’s question, brows arched. “Um, so, we’re boyfriends, right?”

It felt so stupid saying the words out loud, especially after everything they’d been through, and yet… _and yet_ he felt compelled to ask. He had to know.

Billy tried not to over-analyze Teddy’s expression as it twisted in a moment of confusion then slowly softened—bit by bit by bit, growing so warm, so sweet, it was all Billy could do not to roll up to his knees and crawl back into Teddy’s arms. “Well,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “I know we live pretty far apart, but…I’d really like to be. If you would, I mean.”

“I would,” Billy breathed, sitting up. His stomach was twisting and his heart was pounding in time with those rapidly-approaching hoofbeats and and and Teddy was his _boyfriend_.

They’d figure out the whole long-distance thing later. They’d figure _all_ of it out later, when there was time to parse through this incredible, life-changing night. Until then, he simply fumbled for Teddy’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing _tight_ as everything inside him lit up pinwheel bright and happy and—

Inigo whinnied and stamped his hoof, and almost by reflex, Teddy glanced over. Billy watched as his expression morphed from shy pleasure to confusion to mounting concern as he squeezed Billy’s fingers and said, “Hold up. Is that your _mom?_ ”

Billy froze, going absolutely still within the circle of Teddy’s arms. The pounding hoofbeats matched the now-frantic race of his heart, the helpless tumble of his brain, and oh God oh God oh God no, this couldn’t be happening.

Teddy grabbed his waist and gently swung him aside, rising. Billy tried to grab for his hand as if he could pull him back down again—back into the past, spinning back seconds before this horrible, _horrible_ moment, to tell him, to warn him, to be fucking _honest_.

That’s what Teddy deserved—a boyfriend who was _fucking honest with him_ , and here Billy was scrambling up far too late, eyes casting across the open field as the riders came galloping toward them, his mother and father in the middle of the pack. Close, close, so close; they were seconds away and there wasn’t _time_ anymore.

He’d squandered all that so selfishly. He’d let Teddy all but open a vein, spilling out years of hurt, and he hadn’t thought once to warn him of this final blow.

“Oh God,” Billy moaned as Teddy raised his hand in welcome. He wanted to grab his arm and hiss the truth at him fast, but the clatter of hooves was too loud for him to possibly hear. No, all Billy could do was stand there and let this calamity unfurl in front of him and pray with everything he had that he found a way to mitigate the hurt, the betrayal, in the end. _I didn’t mean for it to happen this way._

Kelly was in the front of the pack, right alongside an older, pot-bellied man. She was frowning in obvious worry, but the man was _scowling_ , looking at Teddy as if he were less than filth.

“Teds,” she called out, reining in her horse. “You’ve had us so gosh-darned worried, the both of you!”

His mother was less practiced as she slowed her horse, digging her heels in and yanking back without any finesse, causing it to stamp and toss its mane, but her own gaze was fixed on Billy, taking him in with one anxious sweep. She looked _terrible_ , and as Billy took an instinctive step toward the edge of the little hill, he realized her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d been crying.

Billy covered his face with a groan, hating himself so much right then it was all he could do not to sink down behind the cairn. Only a last sense of self-preservation and respect for Teddy’s mother—for his own mother and father, worry bleeding into relief and slowly growing anger—had him locking his knees and staying still.

There was no hiding from what he’d done.

“Mom,” he said, only for Teddy to interrupt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, looking over the small crowd. Five of them in all, Carey taking up the rear. “Is…something wrong? Did something happen?”

Kelly opened her mouth to reply, but the older, big-bellied man next to her spoke before she could. “You damn well better believe something’s wrong!” he growled, heavy twang lending unexpected venom to each word. “But you’re what went and fucking happened, and you sure as shit know it! What the hell were you thinking, boy?  Spiriting off with these folk’s kid, holing him away on the very fucking day they were all set to leave, acting out like a goddamned fool after I warned you— _I warned you_ —not to put your hands on another guest again.”

Billy blanched at the attack, startled into silence. He jerked his head to look at Teddy— _again?_ A part of him whispered—as if he might be able to read something on his face. Teddy was standing stiff as a board, jaw clamped tight. His hands slowly fisted at his sides, and all Billy wanted to do was grab his arm and demand, _What does he mean by again?_

Then it hit him, just as the man was turning to face his parents—fucking apologizing for Teddy the apparent guest-seducing maniac despoiling their kid or something.

“Gael,” he said, low enough only Teddy could hear. “Gael’s been telling everyone you… You do things with guests and…” He reached out to touch Teddy’s hand, the pieces clicking into place, but Teddy jerked away before Billy could touch him.

God, that hurt more than anything. The fact that Teddy didn’t even look at him just made it worse.

“…a history of this,” that horrible man was telling Billy’s parents, who only appeared to be half-listening. His mother was watching him with a steady, increasingly _furious_ stare. His father, a few steps away and struggling to control his horse, just looked baffled still. “Rumor, before, of course. I wouldn’t let him near impressionable youths like your son if I knew what he was really capable of. But Goddamn, Goddamn if I shouldn’t have made sure the boss rode him out of here the second that first rumor started. Then none of this woulda ever happened. Going off and seducing some young kid,” he added, turning his vitriol on Teddy again. “Spiriting him away from his own fucking family’s lodge to some kind of perverted love nest out in the middle of fucking—”

“Mr. Tucker,” Billy’s mom said, interrupting the spew of words. Her voice was calm and cold, her self-control terrifying. “I think that’s quite enough, don’t you?”

“Why don’t we, er, let the boys speak?” his father added. He reached up to adjust his glasses, looking at Billy with a softer sort of displeasure. Disappointment in place of rage. “Billy? Do you have something to say for yourself?”

Did he have something to say for himself? Ha, not likely. There was nothing he could say to excuse what he’d done. He’d lied to his parents, he’d lied to Teddy, he’d lied to himself thinking that they could have this one perfect night and there’d somehow be no consequences for his actions. As if the universe itself would shrug and say _no harm, no foul; you’ve wanted this for so long, you’ve earned the right to fuck over everyone else to get it._

He curled his hands into tight fists, nails digging into his palms. Yeah, no, he had nothing to say for himself; he didn’t deserve any kind of defense. But he had plenty to say for Teddy.

“This wasn’t Teddy’s idea,” Billy said, then quickly shook his head when he realized just how weak that was. “No, I mean—Teddy didn’t even _know_. I told him you said I could go out camping with him. Mom, I _told him_ that everything was okay, that you said I could, that… He didn’t know.”

“Oh Teds,” Kelly said quietly, looking at him with soft eyes. Carey just cursed and looked up at the sky.

Tucker, the ogre, snorted. “A likely story,” he said. “Probably cooked up to save his hide. It’s a good thing the boss already tossed you out on your ass, boy,” he added, pointing a finger at Teddy. “If he hadn’t, I’d have you strung up so fast you’d—”

Billy raised his voice, practically shouting over him. “I lied about us leaving tomorrow,” he said, not daring to look at Teddy. Not now, not in front of all these people playing witness to their little tragedy. “I let him think you were okay with me going out camping for the night, and I didn’t tell him that you—that I—that we’re _leaving._ We’re leaving.”

The truth of that was even harder to swallow in the light of day, after everything. He’d selfishly grabbed for an experience that he felt the world somehow owed him—that one perfect night with the boy he’d been crushing on, like all the dates his straight friends got to experience and he never did—but he hadn’t thought through how fundamentally it would change him.

Not the sex. That was amazing, but it wasn’t…it wasn’t sunrise over the Montana mountains, and Teddy curled up next to him with gold light in his hair. It wasn’t the feeling of Inigo racing over the plains, or the sight of that cairn, or Teddy slowly falling apart in his arms, trusting him. _Trusting him_.

Teddy had fucking _trusted him_ when he’d never fully trusted anyone before, and he’d blown it all up for one selfish night.

Forget rolling back time to a moment before he was caught; Billy would give anything for the power to erase himself completely from the universe if he could. How had he made such a colossal mess of everything?

“I’m…sorry,” he said—to his mother, to his father, to Teddy. To _Teddy’s_ mom, lying there beneath those stones, knowing she’d raised a better kid than Billy could ever hope to be. “I’m so, so sorry. I should never have done…any of that.”

Tucker opened his mouth again, but Billy’s mother simply raised a hand, silencing him without a look. “Why?” she said, voice clipped, expression impossible to read. Radiating anger, yes, but in a cold, focused way that had Billy’s stomach swooping in response.

He sucked in a slow breath, then let it out. This time, he did let himself glance at Teddy, studying his profile. The way he held himself so still, taking whatever punishment was heaped on him again and again and again. What had he ever done to deserve someone like Gael? What had he ever done to deserve someone like _Billy_? “I just…didn’t want it to end,” he admitted quietly, and that’s when the tears came. They sat hot on his lashes, blurring his vision of Teddy framed by the beautiful Montana day. Billy fought to blink them back, to control himself, but they burned down his cheeks as his breath stuttered in his chest, whole skinny body quaking with the realization that he was _in love_.

And he’d screwed it all up.

The sob came out hard, harsh, too loud in the sudden quiet. Billy jerked an arm up, pressing his wrist against his mouth as if he could swallow back the sound, but he was shuddering too close to the edge. He was falling apart, piece by piece by piece, the tremors overtaking him as the world blurred into an endless smear of blue. Tears rolled down his cheeks and he fought _so hard_ to keep the sobs inside, face scrunched up and shoulders forward.

His mother didn’t say anything, though she’d always been the first to offer a hand up. His father didn’t say anything, though he’d always been such a pillar of comfort. There was still too much standing between them—and maybe their minds were whirling with relief that he was okay and fury that he’d lied to them like this and and and—

And _proof_ that Billy was queer, was sexual, was finally slipping out of their grasp, hovering on the verge of imminent adulthood even as he stood there sobbing like a child.

Lost. He felt _lost_ , and so very alone, struggling to control himself and hating the way he couldn’t seem to _stop._ Hating everything about himself, this moment, this precipice he’d so gladly, selfishly, dragged Teddy over.

He didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. He certainly didn’t deserve _Teddy’s_. But as he stood there, hands up to cover his face, falling apart in front of all these people…he felt calloused fingers brushing his elbow. He heard the soft crunch of ghost juniper and sensed Teddy’s warmth, so close a single breath would bring them together.

“Billy,” Teddy said. Then, so low none of the rest would be able to hear him: “It’s okay.”

Billy sucked in a shuddering, stuttery breath, slowly unspooling.

That big hand dropped daringly to the small of his back, as if they didn’t have a silent audience taking in every moment. Billy blindly turned toward that comfort, that warmth, lifting his head to look up at Teddy through bleary eyes. His cheeks were red, but otherwise, it was as if they were alone again—Teddy’s head tilted down toward his, one arm around him, hand pressed against his spine, keeping him close.

Offering him all the comfort Billy didn’t deserve, and if he hadn’t already fallen in love with this blindingly perfect boy, that would have done it.

“I’m s-sorry,” Billy managed, words coming out with a stutter. “I shouldn’t h-have—I—I just wanted—”

“It’s going to be okay,” Teddy said again, stroking his hand up and down Billy’s spine, soothing him, as if he’d looked into Billy’s future and knew this horrible guilt would someday fade. And fuck, maybe he had—maybe he knew a little something about carrying around the weight of shame. “We’ll head back to the lodge, and we’ll say our goodbyes, and it’s going to be _okay_.”

“ _No_.” Billy’s voice cracked on the word, and he grabbed at the front of Teddy’s shirt, terrified of letting go.

One of the horses nickered softly. “Billy,” his mother said—surprisingly _gentle_.

Tucker grunted. “I’m sorry this had to happen,” he said, all boys club oily condescension. Queasy, as if the sight of the two of them was turning his stomach. “I keep telling the boss we gotta put in a morals clause. Do a background check. _Something_ to weed out the troublemakers and degenerates.”

Billy stiffened at the implication, but Teddy simply looked up and met his once-superior’s gaze with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Pardon my language ma’am,” he told Billy’s mom, “but Tucker, you can go fuck yourself right about now.”

Tucker sputtered in shocked affront; Carey and Kelly grinned; Billy felt his heart surge; his mother simply said, perfectly deadpan: “Yeehaw to that.”

His father cleared his throat. “Yes, quite,” he said, “and not to step on the moment, but we left the boys back at the ranch, and we _do_ have to be getting a move on…”

Billy’s fingers tightened around Teddy’s shirt, but Teddy gently broke awake, putting a little bit of distance between them. “I’ll ride back on Inigo,” he said.

“The hell you will,” Tucker managed to gather himself up enough to bluster. “That horse belongs to the Lonely Mountain, and I’ll be damned if I let you get your paws on it.”

“ _Actually_ ,” Carey drawled, leaning against her saddlehorn. “The rest of the hands have been taking up a collection since we heard Teddy here was leaving us. We’ve bought Inigo, tack and all. It was supposed to be a going away gift, but…”

“But it works much better as a fuck you!” Kelly said with a bright grin.

Teddy very nearly sagged next to Billy, something like shock and relief and amazement on his face; Billy instinctively caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist and squeezing. “Oh my God,” Teddy whispered, staring at his friends, tears bright in _his_ eyes now. “Oh my God, oh my— _thank you_.”

Kelly’s smile warmed. “We couldn’t see you off without a proper gift,” she said. “We tried talking the boss around to keeping you when we weaseled your firing out of Gael, but—”

“No,” Teddy interrupted quickly, squeezing Billy’s waist back. “No, this is better. This is… This is better than anything I could have hoped for.”

“…well _I’m_ done wasting my time,” Tucker muttered, still sputtering to himself beneath his breath. He jerked his horse’s reins and whirled around, giving a hard kick that sent him awkwardly trotting off toward the distant ridge—then cantering, his body jerking on the saddle like a cork on a wave.

Kelly let out a harsh breath. “I hope a mountain lion gets him,” she said with as much venom as Billy had ever witnessed from the sunny girl. Then she grinned. “Or a bear.”

_Your butt is a bear_ , he almost, _almost_ said, his brothers’ nonsensical fight from just a few short weeks back suddenly stuck in his head. Thankfully, he managed to swallow back the impulse, holding on to Teddy and turning a serious gaze toward his parents.

For all that he knew he was pretty much dead for the stunt he’d pulled, his parents looked surprisingly…okay. Maybe finding out their college-bound son was gay and in love with a cowboy had a way of circumventing the usual parental rage. Still, as their eyes met and his mother’s brows rose, Billy had to nod.

Yeah. Yeah, he guessed it was time to stop trying to delay the inevitable.

“We have to go,” he said quietly, pulling away from Teddy again.

“You can ride back on…Inigo, was it?” his mother said. The smile she offered Teddy was a little strained around the edges, but it was genuine. “It won’t give you boys much time to say your goodbyes, but at least it’s something.”

In this moment, it was _everything_. He could have flung himself at his mother’s head and kissed her, or burst into fresh tears, or…something. Instead, Billy dared everything and reached out to take Teddy’s hand in his, letting their small audience—letting his parents—see the way their fingers thread together.

Teddy looked at him, something overwhelmed in his expression, but after just a short beat of silence…he smiled. And squeezed Billy’s fingers. “I’ll see him safely back, ma’am,” he promised as Billy’s mother tugged on her horse’s reigns, turning the mare toward the Lonely Mountain. His father followed her example.

“See that you do, Teddy,” she called back. Then, clicking her tongue, she gave her reigns a little jerk. “All right, Buttercup, let’s go.”

“See you back at base, Teds,” Carey called, wheeling her own horse around. She fell in beside Billy’s dad, coaching him on how to lean forward to flow with the canter—leaving just them and Kelly.

Kelly looked between the two of them for what felt like a long moment before her smile broke through—less beaming and more gentle than Billy remembered ever seeing. “I hate that it all went down this way, Teddy,” she said, leaning forward on her saddlehorn. A soft wind blew, kicking up dirt and bits of dried grass and sending them dancing about her horse’s hooves. “And God but I’m going to miss you something fierce when you go, but I’m glad you got this.” She tilted her head toward Billy, smile growing a little more bittersweet. “Him. Happiness, you know? If only for part of the summer.”

“Longer than that,” Billy said, the words feeling like a vow, and the way Teddy _looked_ at him—heart in his eyes—made it hard to say more. “If…if you want. After the shitty thing I did.”

Teddy’s grip tightened on his. “I want,” he said. Then _laughed_ , leaning in to cup Billy’s jaw and lift his face for a brush of their mouths. Soft, sweet, warm all over, and it was a good thing it lasted so brief or Billy might was tipped forward into that embrace and never come out again.

Instead, Teddy pulled back just enough to look at him, thumb brushing over Billy’s lower lip, expression cracked open like a geode and no less precious. Billy was vaguely aware of the sound of Kelly quietly turning her horse and galloping away, leaving them alone in the shadow of the mountain—falling in love all over again with the smell of ghost juniper and Montana sunshine and beautiful, perfect, _wonderful_ cowboy filling his lungs.

“I want,” Teddy murmured again, thumb dipping toward the corner of Billy’s mouth, eyes sweeping across his face as if trying to memorize everything he saw. “I want this. I want you. I want everything I’m allowed to have.”

“Let’s start with just everything, period,” Billy said, reaching up to catch Teddy’s wrist. He turned his face—dark eyes still locked with blue—and kissed the thundering pulse. On impulse, he flicked out his tongue, tasting the golden warmth of Teddy’s skin. “We can go from there.”

Teddy let out a soft breath that sounded like a reverent _oh_ , and Billy couldn’t believe he’d been so easily forgiven. He still felt terrible, still knew he’d have a reckoning to come once he was in the car with his parents and had to explain how he’d managed to lose to his heart to a sweet-smiling cowboy over one spectacular summer, but…

But, well, fuck it. If these were the last few minutes he’d have with Teddy, he was going to milk them for all they were worth.

Teddy leaned in for one last, lingering kiss, as if he could read Billy’s mind. It was a kiss that said so much: _I love you_ and _I’ll miss you_ and _goodbye_. Billy rocked up onto the balls of his toes and grabbed the front of Teddy’s plaid, kissing back. Sunlight broke warm across their shoulders, and he was oddly aware of that cairn nearby and the good woman who had been laid to rest beneath it.

_I’m going to do everything I can to keep this_ , he promised her, parting his lips for the soft brush of Teddy’s tongue. The hot glide sent curls of shivering heat through him, unspooling low in his belly. _I’m going to do everything I can to be good to him, and treat him right, and make sure he keeps learning how to move on._

And then, because making promises to Teddy’s dead mother while he was currently sucking on Teddy’s tongue felt all kinds of wrong, Billy added a quick: _Okay, please close your eyes now, thanks._

He sank his fingers into golden hair and devoured everything he could, surging up into the kiss with a breathless heat that had Teddy gasping in response. Teddy dropped one big hand down to Billy’s hips before sliding around to the base of his spine— _lower_ , cupping his ass and dragging their hips together for an achingly slow grind.

Fuck, he was getting turned on, but the kiss was even _more_ somehow than the need burning through his gut. It was… It was just…

It was just _everything_ , and oh God, oh God, how was he going to go back to New York without Teddy by his side?

Teddy broke the kiss, but Billy rocked up again, biting at his lower lip, tugging it sharply, fingers carding restlessly through his hair. “Come with me,” Billy breathed, muttering the words over and over as he peppered restless, aching kisses across his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth. “You’ll love New York. It’s crazy-different, and full of more things than you can see in a lifetime, and— And I’ll be going to school outside the city, but we can go in every weekend and I’ll show you around and—”

Teddy lifted both hands to cup Billy’s jaw, kissing between his brows—silencing him. “We’ll see,” he said, which wasn’t a yes…but it wasn’t a no, either.

As Billy rocked back down onto his heels, turned on and turned around and full of aimless longing, he tried to picture what it would take to bring Teddy to New England. What Teddy’s life would _look_ like there. He imagined introducing him to his friends, and telling him all about his classes, and finding a stable where they could keep Inigo and go riding, like, every day, and…

Teddy tugged him gently toward where Inigo was waiting, stamping his hoof. It seemed too soon, but when Billy cast a glance toward where the others had ridden off, he realized they were little more than ant-sized specks in the distance. They _had_ to go now. Still: “Wait,” Billy said, digging in his heels. Teddy turned to look at him, brows arched, but Billy just darted back to the cairn. He crouched down beside it, pressing his hand against warm rock, and spoke in a low voice. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It was…I’m glad I got to meet you. And I just wanted to say Teddy, he’s…” He squeezed his eyes shut. “He’s the best person I ever met. Your _son_ is such a good, _good_ person. I just wish I could’ve told you that to your face.”

Before he rose, he grabbed a small vine of ghost juniper, stuffing it into his pocket like a talisman before turning to face Teddy. There was so much emotion on the other boy’s face that he just had to soldier on and not let it drag him down. If he stood still too long, if he thought about his _goodbye_ , then he’d never be able to make it through. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I lied, Teddy,” he said. “I’m sorry I hid this from you, but I’m—I’m not sorry it happened. _We_ happened. Even if you never come to New York and we never really see each other again, I _need_ you to know that this, you… It was everything to me. It was everything I never thought I’d get to have.”

“Billy,” Teddy murmured. His eyes were as blue and open as the whole of Big Sky Montana, and Billy wanted nothing more than to get lost in them forever. “I forgive you. And I love you. And no matter what happens…this isn’t the end, okay?”

“Okay,” Billy whispered, not sure he believed it. Still, he let Teddy help him up onto Inigo, then swing up behind him. He dug his fingers into Inigo’s mane and leaned back into strong arms as Teddy clucked his tongue and turned his horse toward the Lonely Mountain.

It thrust up into the sky like a dagger, withdrawn from the rest of the range: standing sentinel over the valley. And somewhere up on that mountain was a car waiting to take Billy away from here forever—take him away from Teddy forever.

He closed his eyes against a fresh burn of tears.

“ _Hyah!_ ” Teddy called, digging in his heels, and Inigo gracefully loped forward, falling naturally into a trot, then a canter, then a gallop—eating up the space between this moment and that, spiriting Billy away from his stolen night and back into the waiting world where he and Teddy were thousands of miles apart.

The ride sped by like a dream, and it was far, far too soon before Teddy was slowing Inigo within sight of the ranch. Billy looked around at each field and outbuilding as they passed, heart swelling painfully in his chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. He wished suddenly that he’d insisted they walk the whole way back—they’d wasted so much time they could have been _talking_ , the wind rushing by as Inigo raced the clouds overhead. But it was too late now: they were already turning the corner of the stables and Billy could see his cabin in the near distance, the family car not too far beyond. His family moved about it, checking last-minute details.

Billy swallowed hard. “Write me,” he said, half-turning in the saddle to look up at Teddy. “And call. Text. Skype? Like, _all the time_ , okay? Send smoke signals if that’s all you can do, but make _sure_ you don’t disappear on me. You’re not some kind of hallucination and this wasn’t just…just a summer fling, okay? This is _real_.”

“This is real,” Teddy agreed, sliding his arms back so he wasn’t holding Billy so close. He was withdrawing the nearer they got to Billy’s parents, and Billy wanted to _howl_. It wasn’t enough. A few weeks, a single perfect night: _it wasn’t enough_.

“Promise me,” he said, feeling desperate. Those thousands of miles were weighing heavy on him, the dream of Teddy coming to New York more obviously ridiculous. What would he do there? He was the west—he was these wide open skies—he was racing across the open plains and and and—

Teddy brushed his knuckles down Billy’s spine, soothing, even as he reined Inigo in a few paces away from the car. “I promise,” he whispered before gracefully dismounting. He dropped to the ground just as Andy and David came pinwheeling out of the main lodge, running toward the car at full speed.

“Mrs. Kaplan,” Teddy said, nodding his head in greeting. His cheeks were a little pink, but otherwise he seemed in full control of himself. “Mr. Kaplan. It sure was good meeting you folks this summer.”

“Please,” Billy’s mother said warmly, smiling as if Teddy were one of her own. “Call me Rebecca.”

Billy slung a leg over Inigo’s side and dropped down. The dark horse twisted its head to look at him, nostrils flaring once. It was all Billy could do not to burst into fresh tears as he laid one hand to Inigo’s flank and the other to his soft muzzle, pressing his face against the fall of black mane and dragging in a breath.

Holding it.

Letting it out slowly.

“You take care of him,” he whispered, taking the emphatic stamp of Inigo’s hook as assent, then stepped away to join Teddy and his family.

His dad was already circling around to climb into the driver’s seat. His brothers were piling into the back, elbowing each other and arguing. Billy caught his mother pressing a folded envelope into Teddy’s hand, her own smile a little fragile as she talked to her eldest son’s brand new boyfriend, accepting in a way Billy had somehow always known she would be.

“I know it’s a long way,” she was saying, “but I’m serious: don’t be a stranger. And if you ever find yourself in our neck of the woods, please know that you’ll always have a place to call _home_.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Teddy said, looking, sounding, off-balance.

They both glanced at Billy as he stopped beside them. “Two minutes, young man,” she said, narrowing her eyes just enough that he knew he was still in serious trouble for the stunt he pulled. Well. Fair enough.

“Two minutes,” Billy echoed, and turned back to Teddy for one final time as his mother slid into the passenger seat. “Will you be all right?” he asked. There were a thousand and one things he wanted to say, a thousand and one things he wanted to know, but that was the most important. “For the rest of the summer? With Gael and that…” That horrible _ogre_.

“I’ll be all right,” Teddy promised. Then, smiling a little: “I’m not afraid of them anymore.”

He would have given anything for the ability to fling himself into Teddy’s arms and kiss him for that—for so much more than that—but all Billy could do under the watchful eyes of his family was smile and subtly squeeze his hand. (And even that earned an audible _ooooOOOOooooooo!_ from his brothers before his mother sharply hushed them.) “I’m glad,” he said, meaning a hundred thousand things more. Then: “Remember. Call. Write. Skype. Smoke signals. Something. I…don’t forget me.”

Teddy’s smile was soft, his own eyes bright with tears as Billy reluctantly pulled away. “As if I could,” he said, watching as Billy stumbled blindly back toward the car. “Goodbye, Billy. Be well.”

“Um, yes,” he agreed, grabbing for the door handle. The car hummed to life, and he could feel the seconds slipping away through his fingers. “You too. With the being well.” He took an unsteady breath and tried to smile. “Um…yeehaw?”

Teddy’s laugh was _so_ fucking good—the perfect note to follow him as Billy threw open the car door and slid inside. He shoved his brothers over, letting it click shut behind him, already looking up to see Teddy as the car pulled back from the Lonely Mountain lodge.

“Billy,” his mother said—gently for now in the fresh face of his loss. “Seatbelt. No one wants to be a statistic.”

“Yeah, _Billy_ ,” Andy said, squirming around David to look at him. “No one wants to be a— _ow!_ ” He elbowed David back, glowering, and everything else was lost beneath the sound of them squabbling. Billy clicked his seatbelt into place even as he swiveled around in his seat, staring out the window at Teddy. He was standing next to Inigo now, one hand on the horse’s neck, watching as the Kaplan car made its way in a cloud of dust down the mountain.

Some small part of Billy hoped he could still see him as he lifted his hand, giving a final wave. Sunlight caught on golden hair—on a row of silver earrings—and he felt like he might burst at the seams as Teddy grew smaller and smaller and smaller, dwindling away…and was finally lost to memory.

His father was clicking on the radio, turning the dial as they made their way down the winding mountain road. His brothers were arguing over space on the long bench seat and first dibs on the iPad. His mother was sighing and looking up and out at the beautiful scenery, as if saying her own goodbye to Montana.

And Billy shoved his hand into his hoodie pocket, feeling that small clump of ghost juniper against his fingers, eyes burning at the all-too-big sensation of gratitude and loss—thinking about the unlikely cowboy who’d been his first true love, and tumbling head-first out of his final summer as the boy he’d always been and into the whole wide world waiting for him on the other side.

The Lonely Mountain faded and the wide open road spread before them, limitless in its possibilities.

**THE END**


	11. Epilogue

“HEY BILLY!” Andy called from upstairs. “WHAT DO YOU CALL A BUTT WITH FIVE HOLES?”

Billy—a college freshman back for winter break and definitely smarter than his bratty little brothers—ignored him as he made his way down the creaking old steps of their brownstone. It was cold inside, the heavy sweater barely warm enough to keep him from shivering, but he was pretty sure he smelled hot chocolate on the stove.

“HEY BILLY!” Andy called—voice louder as if he’d stuck his head out the door. “WANNA KNOW THE ANSWER?”

He really didn’t.

“IT’S YOUR _FACE_!”

Billy snorted and shook his head, hopping down the last step. It was snowing outside, the soft _whisk whisk_ of flakes brushing against tempered glass. Later, if it didn’t get too bad, he’d bundle up and brave the night to see the winter market in Union Square. Or maybe he and Kate (a girl he’d met in French and already his new best friend) would meet at City Bakery and judge everyone who came blowing through the doors in a flurry of flakes.

He was just turning the corner to head down the short hall to the kitchen when someone knocked on the door.

Billy looked over his shoulder, surprised. It was too late to be expecting anyone—unless it _was_ Kate, come to drag him out into the cold. “I got it!” he called before Andy or David could come rushing down. He padded to the door, throwing open the locks without bothering to check the peephole. The doorknob was freezing beneath his fingers and the door stuck for one long, annoying moment, clinging to the jamb as if it never wanted to pull free. He cursed beneath his breath and grabbed the handle with both hands, _yanking_ , giving a triumphant cry when it jerked open with a reverberating _bang!_

The cry died on his lips as he looked up into familiar Montana-blue eyes.

Teddy. _Teddy Altman_ , standing on his New York doorstep. He was bundled up in a shearling coat, green mittens covering calloused hands and that familiar cowboy hat on his head. Its brim collected white snowflakes as they came drifting slowly slowly slowly down, and it was like coming face-first with a dream. The blaring traffic behind him, the deepening snow all around him, the familiar world of New York—it all seemed so strange, so alien, with Teddy standing there in its midst.

Smiling, shy and just a little hesitant.

“Hey,” Teddy said, looking up at Billy with a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. He looked…good. Amazing. Too perfect to be real, tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip and gaze taking Billy in from head to foot as if he could hardly believe his eyes either.

Two apparitions, meeting; two worlds colliding, and… _shit fuck right_ he should be saying.

“Hey!” Billy said, too forcefully, too loud. “What are you doing here?”

But he immediately shook off the questions rattling around in his head. None of them mattered; nothing mattered but the fact that Teddy _was_ here. Teddy was on his doorstep, in his life, and all the time between this winter and that summer distilled down into a single point: Billy giving in to gravity as he tipped forward and toppled happily into Teddy’s arms out on that icy stoop.

Teddy gave a start of surprise, catching him around the middle and pulling him close with a familiar sort of protectiveness. “Billy, holy cow, you’ll freeze your ass off,” he said, instantly opening his coat and letting Billy burrow inside.

All Billy could do was smile beatifically up at him, lost in his cowboy’s eyes again. “Then you’d better keep it warm for me,” he said—knocking that wonderful hat off Teddy’s head as he dug his fingers into blonde hair, pulling him in for a _welcome home_ kiss that was nothing but endless warmth.

Teddy’s lips parted on his next words, lost within Billy’s earnest kisses. Brazen, needful, licking his way as deep into Teddy’s mouth as he could and holding on for dear life, like something might dare try to separate them again. The city blared all around them and Teddy’s arms went tight, holding him closer than he ever had before. Kissing him _back_ as if he were just as starved for this as Billy. As if he’d spent the past half-year pining just the same way, longing for a time when their lives might converge again, and again, and again.

Later, they’d pull apart and he’d invite Teddy inside. Later, they’d settle together and he’d ask how long he’d been planning this, where was Inigo being stabled, how fucking long could Billy _keep him_ this time. Later, _later_ , they’d work through everything and figure out how to make this work.

But until then, there was just this: just kissing out in the quiet fall of snow, lost and tangled together and, and…

 _Home_ , Billy thought, burrowing even closer. Giving himself to Teddy’s endless warmth. _Oh, thank God, we’re home_.

“Cause I am a poor, wayfaring stranger  
Traveling through this world alone  
And there's no sickness, toil or danger  
In that bright land to which I go.”


End file.
